ELECTRA 


EURIPIDES 

THE  ELECTRA 


TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH    RHYMING    VERSE 
WITH    EXPLANATORY    NOTES    BY 

GILBERT   MURRAY 
LL.D.,  D.LiTT. 

REGIUS   PROFESSOR   OF   GREEK    IN    THS 
UNIVERSITY    OF   OXFOBB 


Forty- Sixth  Thousand 

NEW   YORK 
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Performed  at 
The  Court  Theatre,  London 

,  ,  ,     ,         TN   T.^0.7 


^^.^4 ^25 Uv' '<^ <ii  ht*^  '^i^  *\  ^ 


/ 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  by 
Unwin  Brothers  Ltd.,  Woking 


INTRODUCTION' 


'hi  Elictra  of  Euripides  has  the  distinction  of  being, 
(>erhaps,  the  best  abused,  and,  one  might  add,  not  the 
best  understood,  of  ancient  tragedies.  "A  singular 
monument  of  poetical,  or  rather  unpoetical  perver- 
sity ;  '"*  *'  the  very  worst  of  all  his  pieces ;  ^  are,  for 
instance,  the  phrases  applied  to  it  by  Schlcgel.  Con- 
sidering that  he  judged  it  by  the  standards  of  con- 
ventional classicism,  he  could  scarcely  have  arrived  at 
any  different  conclusion.  For  it  is  essentially,  and 
perhaps  consciously,  a  protest  against  those  standards. 
So,  indeed,  is  the  tragedy  of  Tht  Trojan  Women  ;  but 
on  very  different  lines.  The  EUctra  has  none  of  the 
imaginative  splendour,  the  vastness,  the  intense  poetry, 
of  that  wonderful  work,  It^ii  a  clofe-knit>  powerfuJL 
well-constructed  play,  as  realistic  as  the  tragic  con- 
ventions will  allow,  intellectual  and  rebellious.  Its 
psychology  reminds  one  of  Browning,  or  even  of  Ibsen. 

To  a  fifth-century  Greek  all  history  came  in  the 
form  of  legend ;  and  no  less  than  three  extant 
tragedies,  Aeschylus*  Libation- Bearer i  (456  B.C.),  Euri- 
pides* Electro  {413  B.C.),  and  Sophocles'  EUctra  (date 
unknown  :  but  perhaps  the  latest  of  the  three)  arc 
based  on  the'  particular  piece  of  legend  or  history 
now  before  us.     It  nau-rates  how  the  son  and  daughter 

^  Most  of  this  introduction  is  reprinted,  by  the  kind  permiaiion  0/ 
th«  Editon,  from  an  article  in  the  Independmt  Review^  vol.  i.  No.  4. 


M77793 


ri  INTRODUCTION 

of  the  murdered  king,  Agamemnon,  slew,  in  due 
^  course  of  revenge,  and  by  Apollo's  express  command, 

their  guilty  mother  and  her  paramour. 

Homer  had  long  since  told  the  story,  as  he  tells  so 

many,  simply  and  grandly,  without  moral  questioning 

and  without  intensity.      The  atmosphere  is  heroic. 

It  is  all  a  blood-feud  between  chieftains,  in  which 
1  Orestes,  after  seven  years,  succeeds  in  slaying  his  foe 
J  Aegisthus,  who  had  killed  his  father.     He  probably 

killed  his  mother  also  ;  but  we  are  not  directly  told  so. 

His  sister  may  have  helped  him,  and  he  may  possibly 
\      have  gone  mad  afterwards ;  but  these  painful  issues 

V  are  kept  determinedly  in  the  shade. 

Somewhat  surprisingly,  Sophocles,  although  by  his 
time  Electra  and  Clytemncstra  had  become  leading 
figures  in  the  story  and  the  mother-murder  its  essen- 
tial climax,  preserves  a  very  similar  atmosphere.  His 
tragedy  is  enthusiastically  praised  by  Schlegel  for  "  the 
celestial  purity,  the  fresh  breath  of  life  and  youth, 
that  is  diffused  over  so  dreadful  a  subject."     "Every- 

V  thing  dark  and  ominous  is  avoided.  Orestes  enjoys 
the  fulness  of  health  and  strength.  He  it  beset 
neither  with  doubts  nor  stings  of  conscience.''  Espe- 
cially laudable  is  the  "austcdjty"  with  which  Aegisthus 
is  driven  into  the  house  to  receive,  according  to 
Schlegel,  a  specially  ignominious  death  I 

y\  This  combination  of  matricide  and  good  spirits, 
however  satisfactory  to  the  determined  classicist,  will 
probably  strike  most  intelligent  readers  at  a  little 
curious,  and  even^  if  one  may  use  the  word  at  all  in 
connection  with  to  powerful  a  play,  nndrmmatic.     It 


INTRODUCTION  rii 

becomes  intelligible  as  soon  as  we  observe  that  Sopho- 
cles was  deliberately  seeking  what  he  regarded  as  an 
archaic  or  "  Homeric  "  style  (cf.  Jebb,  Introd.  p.  xli.) ; 
and  this  archaism,  in  its  turn,  seems  to  me  best 
explained  as  a  conscious  reaction  against  Euripides' 
searching  and  unconventional  treatment  of  the  same 
subject  (cf.  Wilamowitz  in  Hermes^  xviii.  pp.  214  flf.). 
In  the  result  Sophocles  is  not  only  more  "  classical " 
than  Euripides;  he  is  more  primitive  by  far  than 
Aeschylus. 

For  Aeschylus,  though  steeped  in  the  glory  of  the 
world  of  legend,  would  not  lightly  accept  its  judg- 
ment upon  religious  and  moral  questions,  and  above 
all  would  not,  in  thaC  'egion,  play  at  make-believe. 
He  would  not  elude  the  horror  of  this  story  by  simply 
not  mentioning  it,  like  Homer,  or  by  pretending  that 
an  evil  act  was  a  good  one,  like  Sophocles.  He  faces 
the  horror  ;  realises  it ;  and  tries  to  surmount  it  on 
the  sweep  of  a  great  wave  of  religious  emotion.  The 
mother-murder,  even  if  done  by  a  god's  command,  is 
,a  sin  ;  a  sin  to  be  expiated  by  unfathomable  suffering. 
Yet,  since  the  god  cannot  have  commanded  evil,  it  is 
a  duty  also.     It  is  a  sin  that  must  be  committed. 

Euripides,  here  as  often,  represents  intellectually 
the  thought  of  Aeschylus  carried  a  step  further.  He 
faced  the  problem  just  as  Aeschylus  did,  and  as 
Sophocles  did  noc  But  the  solution  offered  by 
Aeschylus  did  not  satisfy  him.  It  cannot,  in  its 
actual  details,  satisfy  any  one.  To  him  the  mpthcr- 
murder — like  most  acts  of  revenge,  but  more  than 
most — was^  a  sin  and  a  horror.     Therefore  it  should 


Tiii  INTRODUCTION 

not  have  been  committed  ;  and  the  god  who  enjoined 
it  did  command  evil,  as  he  had  done  in  a  hundred 
other  cases  I  He  is  no  god  of  light ;  he  is  only  a 
demon  of  old  superstition,  acting,  among  other  in- 
fluences, upon  a  sore-beset  man,  and  driving  him 
towards  a  miscalled  duty,  the  horror  of  which,  when 
done,  will  unseat  his  reason. 

But  another  problem  interests  Euripides  even  more 
than  this.  What  kind  of  man  was  it — above  all, 
what  kind  of  woman  can  it  have  been,  who  would  do 
this  deed  of  mother-murder,  not  in  sudden  fury  but 
V  deliberately,  u  an  act  of  "justice,"  after  many  years  ? 
A  "sympathetic"  hero  and  heroine  are  out  of  the 
question  ;  and  Euripides  does  not  deal  in  stage  villains. 
"^He  seeks  real  people.  And  few  attentive  readers  of 
this  play  can  doubt  that  he  has  found  them. 

The  son  is  an  exile,  bred  in  the  desperate  hopes 
and  wild  schemes  of  exile ;  he  is  a  prince  without 
a  kingdom,  always  dreaming  of  his  wrongs  and  his 
restoration  ;  and  driven  by  the  old  savage  doctrine, 
which  an  oracle  has  confirmed,  of  the  duty  and 
manliness  of  revenge.  He  is,  as  was  shown  by  his 
later  history,  a  man  subject  to  overpowering  impulses 
and  to  fits  of  will-less  brooding.  Lastly,  he  is  very 
\k^oung,  and  is  swept  away  by  hit  sister's  intenier 
nature. 

That  sister  \%  the  central  figure  of  the  timgedy.     A 

woman   shatteted   in   childhood   by  the  shock  of  lui 

/  experience  too  terrible  for  a  girl  to  bear ;  a  poisoned 

and  a  Aaunted  woman,  eating  her  heart  in  ceaseless 

brooding!   of  hate   and    love,  alike  unsatisfied — hate 


^ 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

s^ainst  her  mother  and  stepfather,  love  for  her  dead 
father  and  her  brother  in  exile  ;  a  woman  who  has 
known  luxury  and  state,  and  cares  much  for  them  ; 
who  is  intolerant  of  poverty,  and  who  feels  her  youth 
passing  away.  And  meantime  there  is  her  name,  on 
which  all  legend,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  insists ;  she  is 
A-Uktroy  "the  Unmated." 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  woman's  character  in  the 
range  of  Greek  tragedy  so  profoundly  studied.  Not 
Aeschylus'  Clytemncstra,  not  Phaedra  nor  Medea. 
One's  thoughts  can  only  wander  towards  two  great 
heroines  of  "lost"  plays,  Althaea  in  the  Meleager^ 
^Ti^  Stheneboea  in  the  BilUrtphan. 

G.  M. 


ELECTRA 


CHARACTERS   IN  THE   PLAY 

Clttbmnbstka*  Queen  0/  Argos  and  Mycenae ;  widow  oj  /igm- 
metfinpn^ 

Elbctra,  daughter  of  Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestra. 
Okbstbs,  son  of  Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestray  now  in  ianishmeni. 
A  Peasant,  Ausiand  of  Electro, 
An  Old  "hHK^,  formerly  servant  to  Agamemnon, 
Pyladbs,  son  of  Strophios^  King  of  Phocis  ;  friend  to  Orestes, 
Abgisthus,  usurping  King  of  Argos  emd  Mycenae^  row  husbctnd 
of  Clytemnestra, 

The  Heroes  Castor  and  Polydbdcks. 
Chorus  of  Argive  Women,  with  their  Lbadbr. 

FOLLOWBRS  of  OrBSTBS  ;   HANDMAIDS  of  ClYTBU NBSTlA. 

The  Seen*  is  laid  in  the  mountains  of  Argos.     The  play  wasfirtt 
produced  between  the  years  414  and  412  B.C. 


^ 


ELECTRA 


The  scent  represents  a  hut  on  a  desolate  mountain  side ; 
the  river  Inachus  is  visible  in  the  distance.  The 
time  is  the  dusk  of  early  dawn^  before  sunrise.  The 
PlASANT  is  discovered  in  front  of  the  hut,  ^ 

Pbasant. 

i 

Old   gleam    on   the  face  of  the  world,  I  give   thee 

hail, 
River  of  Argos  land,  where  sail  on  sail  ^     J 

The  long  ships  met,  a  thousand,  near  and  far,  .  ft 

When  Agamemnon  walked  the  seas  in  war ; 
Who  smote  King  Priam  in  t^c  dust,  and  burned 
The  storied  streets  of  Ilion,  and  returned 
Above  all  conquerors,  heaping  tower  and  fane 
Of  Argos  high  with  spoils  of  Eastern  slain. 

So  in  far  lands  he  prospered  ;  and  at  home 
His  own  wife  trapped  and  slew  him.     'Twas  the  doom 
Aegisthus  wrought,  son  of  his  father's  foe. 

Gone  is  that'  King,  and  the  old  spear  laid  low 
That  Tantalus  wielded  when  the  world  was  young. 
Aegisthus  hath  his  queen,  and  reigns  among 
His  people.     And  the  children  here  alone, 
Orestes  and  Electra,  buds  unblown 


4  EURIPIDES 

Of  man  and  womanhood,  when  forth  to  Troy 
He  shook  his  sail  and  left  them — lo,  the  boy 

.  .Orf^tes^  ere  Acg'sthus'  hand  could  fall, 
'W,a}»  stolen ;fifc»ih;Argos — borne  by  one  old  thrall, 
,  Vyhq  served  his  fether's  boyhood,  over  seas 

1  )&^:Af.^£^,  .^n4  Jaid  Mppn  King  Strophios*  knees 
In  Phocis,  for  the  old  king's  sake.     But  here 
The  maid  Electra  waited,  year  by  year. 
Alone,  till  the  warm  days  of  womanhood 
Drew  nigh  and  suitors  came  of  gentle  blood 
In  Hellas.     Then  Acgisthus  was  in  fear 
Lest  she  be  wed  in  some  great  house,  and  bear 
A  son  to  avenge  her  father.     Close  he  wrought 
Her  prison  in  his  house,  and  gave  her  not 
To  any  wooer.     Then,  since  even  this 
Was  full  of  peril,  and  the  secret  kiss 
Of  some  bold  prince  might  find  her  yet,  and  rend 
Her  prison  walls,  Aegisthus  at  the  end 
Would  slay  her.     Then  her  mother,  she  so  wild 
Aforetime,  pled  with  him  and  saved  her  child. 
Her  heart  had  still  an  answer  for  her  lord 
Murdered,  but  if  the  child's  blood  spoke,  what  word 
Could  meet  the  hate  thereof  ?     After  that  day 
Aegisthus  thus  decreed  :  whoso  should  slay 
The  old    king's  wandering    son,   should   win    rich 

meed 
Of  gold  ;  and  for  Electra,  she  must  wed 
^  J  With  me,  not  base  of  blood — in  that  I  stand 
i^  ^Tnie  Mycenaean — but  in  gold  and  land 

JMost  poor,  which  makcth  highest  birth  as  naught. 
^     I  So  from  a  powerless  husband  shall  be  wrought 

\  A  powerless  peril.     Had  some  man  of  might 
Possessed  her,  he  had  called  perchance  to  light 


ELECTRA  5 

Her  ftithcr's  blood,  and  unknown  vengeances 
Risen  on  Aegisthus  yet. 

Aye,  mine  she  is : 
But  never  yet  these  arms — the  Cyprian  knows 
My  truth  I — have  clasped  her  body,  and  she  goes 
A  virgin  still.     Myself  would  hold  it  shame 
To  abase  this  daughter  of  a  royal  name. 
I  am  too  lowly^dTove  violence.     Yea, 
Orestes  too  doth  move  me,  far  away, 
Mine  unknown  brother  I     Will  he  ever  now 
Come  back  and  see  his  sister  bowed  so  low  ? 

Doth  any  deem  me  fool,  to  hold  a  fair 
Maid  in  my  room  and  seek  no  joy,  but  spare 
Her  maidenhood  ?     If  any  such  there  be. 
Let  him  but  look  within.     The  fool  is  he 
In  gentle  things,  weighing  the  more  and  less 
Of  love  by  his  own  heart's  untenderness. 

Ijfs  he  ceases  Electra  ccmes  out  of  the  hut,  Shi 
is  in  mourning  garby  and  carries  a  large 
pitcher  on  her  head.  She  speaks  without 
observing  the  Peasant's  presence. 


Electra. 

Dark  shepherdess  of  many  a  golden  star, 
Dost  see  me,  Mother  Night  ?     And  how  this  jar 
Hath  worn  my  earth- bowed  head,  as  forth  and  fro 
For  water  to  the  hillward  springs  I  go  ? 
Not  for  mere  stress  of  need,  but  purpose  set, 
That  never  day  nor  night  God  may  forget 
Aegisthus*  sin  :  aye,  and  perchance  a  cry  . 
Cast  forth  to  the  waste  shining  of  the  sky 


6  EURIPIDES 

May  find  my  father's  car.  .  .  ,  The  woman  bred 
Of  Tyndarcus,  my  mother — on  her  head 
Be  curses  ! — from  my  house  hath  outcast  me ; 
She  hath  borne  children  to  our  enemy ; 
She  hath  made  me  naught,  she  hath  made  Orestes 
naught.  .  •  . 

l^s  the  bitterness  of  her  tone  increases^  the 
Peasant  comes  forward. 


Peasant. 

What  wouldst  thou  now,  my  sad  one,  ever  fraught 
With  toil  to  lighten  my  toil  ?     And  so  soft 
Thy  nurture  was  I     Have  I  not  chid  thee  oft. 
And  thou  wilt  cease  not,  serving  without  end  ? 

Elsctra  {turning  to  him  with  impulsive  affection), 

O  friend,  my  friend,  as  God  might  be  my  friend. 
Thou  only  hast  not  trampled  on  my  tears. 
Life  scarce  can  be  so  hard,  'mid  many  fears 
And  many  shames,  when  mortal  heart  can  find 
Somewhere  one  healing  touch,  as  my  sick  mind 
Finds  thee.  .  .  .  And  should  I  wait  thy  word,  to   \ 
endure  M 

A  little  for  thine  easing,  yea,  or  pour  J  \ 

My  strength  out  in  thy  toiling  fellowship  ?  y  ^^ 

Thou  hast  enough  with  fields  and  kine  to  keep.^!!!!^ 
'Tis  mine  to  make  all  bright  within  the  door. 
'Tis  joy  to  him  that  toils,  when  toil  is  o'er, 
To  find  home  waiting,  full  of  happy  thingi 


i 


ELECTRA 


Peasant. 


If  so  it  please  thee,  go  thy  way.     The  springs 
Arc  not  far  off.     And  I  before  the  morn 
Must  drive  my  team  afield,  and  sow  the  corn 
In  the  hollows. — Not  a  thousand  prayers  can  gain 
A  man's  bare  bread,  save  an  he  work  amain. 

[Elkctra  and  the  Peasant  depart  on  their  several 
ways.  After  a  few  moments  there  enter 
stealthily  two  armed  men^  Orestes  and 
Pylades. 


Orestes. 

m 

Thou  art  the  first  that  I  have  known  m  deed 
True  and  my  friend,'*and  shelterer  of  my  need. 
Thou  only,  Pylades,  of  all  that  knew, 
Hast  held  Orestes  of  some  worth,  all  through 
These  years  of  helplcssn'sss,  wherein  I  lie 
Downtrodden  by  the  murderer — yea,  and  by 
The  murderess,  my  mother !  ...  I  am  come, 
Fresh  from  the  cleansing  of  Apollo,  home 
To  Argos — and  my  coming  no  man  yet 
Knoweth — to  pay  the  bloody  twain  their  debt 
Of  blood.     This  very  night  I  crept  alone 
To  my  dead  father's  grave,  and  poured  thereon 
My  heart's  first  tears  and  tresses  of  my  head 
New-shorn,  and  o'er  the  barrow  of  the  dead 
Slew  a  black  lamb,  unknown  of  them  that  reign 
In  this  unhappy  land.    ;  .  .  I  am  not  ^n 
To  pass  the  city  gates,  but  hold  me  here 
Hard  on  the  borders.     So  my  road  is  clear 


S  EURIPIDES 

To  fly  if  men  look  close  and  watch  my  way  } 

If  not,  to  seek  my  sister.     For  men  say 

She  dwelleth  in  these  hills,  no  more  a  maid 

But  wedded.     I  must  find  her  house,  for  aid 

To  guide  our  work,  and  learn  what  hath  betid 

Of  late  in  Argos. — Ha,  the  radiant  lid 

Of  Dawn's  eye  lifteth  t     Come,  friend  ;  leave  we  now 

This  trodden  path.     Some  worker  of  the  plough. 

Or  serving  damsel  at  her  early  task 

Will  presently  come  by,  whom  we  may  ask 

If  here  my  sister  dwells.     But  soft  1     Even  now 

I  see  some  bondmaid  there,  her  death-shorn  brow 

Bending  beneath  its  freight  of  well-water. 

Lie  close  until  she  pass ;  then  question  her. 

A  slave  might  help  us  well,  or  speak  some  sign 

Of  import  to  this  work  of  mine  and  thine. 

[Thi  two  men  retin  into  ambush,      Elsctra 
intirSf  returning  from  the  well. 


Elbctra. 

Onward,  O  labouring  tread. 

As  on  move  the  years ; 
Onward  amid  thy  tears, 

O  happier  dead  I 

Let  me  remember.     I  am  she,  [Strophe  i, 

Agamemnon's  child,  and  the  mother  of  me 

Clytemnestra,  the  evil  Queen, 

Helen's  sister.     And  folk,  I  ween. 

That  pass  in  the  streets  call  yet  my  name 

Electn.  .  .  .  God  protect  my  shame  I 


ELECTRA  9 

For  toil,  toil  is  a  weary  thing, 

And  life  is  heavy  about  my  head ; 
And  thou  far  off,  O  Father  and  King, 
In  the  lost  lands  of  the  dead. 
A  bloody  twain  made  these  things  be  $ 
One  was  thy  bitterest  enemy. 
And  one  the  wife  that  lay  by  thee. 

Brother,  brother,  on  some  far  shore         [Antiitrophe  i. 

Hast  thou  a  city,  is  there  a  door 

That  knows  thy  footfall,  Wandering  One  ? 

Who  left  me,  left  me,  when  all  our  pain 

Was  bitter  about  us,  a  father  slain. 

And  a  girl  that  wept  in  her  room  alone. 

Thou  couldst  break  me  this  bondage  sore. 
Only  thou,  who  art  far  away, 

Loose  our  father,  and  wake  once  more.  .  .  . 
Zeus,  Zeus,  dost  hear  me  pray  ?  .  .  . 
The  sleeping  blood  and  the  shame  and  the  doom  ! 
O  feet  that  rest  not,  over  the  foam 
Of  distant  seas,  come  home,  come  home  1 

What  boots  this  cruse  that  I  carry  ?  [Strtphi  2, 

O,  set  free  my  brow  I 
For  the  gathered  tears  that  tarry 

Through  the  day  and  the  dark  till  now, 
Now  in  the  dawn  are  free. 

Father,  and  flow  beneath 
The  floor  of  the  world,  to  be 

As  a  song  in  the  house  of  Death  : 
From  the  rising  up  of  the  day 
They  guide  my  heart  alway, 
The  silent  tears  unshed. 
And  my  body  mourns  for  the  dead  ; 


lo  EURIPIDES 

fMP^  My  checks  bleed  silently, 

^  And  these  bruised  temples  keep 

^     I  Their  pain,  remembering  thcc 

/>"•  And  thy  bloody  sleep. 

Be  rent,  O  hair  of  mine  head  ! 

As  a  swan  crying  alone 

Where  the  river  windeth  cold, 
For  a  loved,  for  a  silent  one, 

Whom  the  toils  of  the  fowler  hold, 
I  cry,  Father,  to  thee, 
O  slain  in  misery  ! 

The  water,  the  wan  water,  [Antistrophe  2 

Lapped  him,  and  his  head 
Drooped  in  the  bed  of  slaughter 
-\AJL  ,lWii       Low,  as  one  wearied  ; 
u'\\<^*-'        Woe  for  the  cdg^d  axe. 

And  woe  for  the  heart  of  hate, 
.  Houndlike  about  thy  tracks, 

(Jli^Vw<M.M-W        O  conqueror  desolate. 

From  Troy  over  land  and  sea, 
Till  a  wife  stood  waiting  thee  ; 
Not  with  crowns  did  she  stand, 
Nor  flowers  of  peace  in  her  hand  % 
With  Aegisthus'  dagger  drawn 

For  her  hire  she  strove. 
Through  shame  and  through  blood  alone ; 
And  won  her  a  traitor's  love. 

[As  she  ceases   there  enter  from   right  and 
left  the  Chorus,  consisting  of  women  oj 
,  ^^i*'%  y^^ng  and  tidf  in  festal  dress* 


ELECTRA  II 

Chorus. 

Some  Women. 

Child  of  the  mighty  dead,  [Strophe. 

Electra,  lo,  my  way 
To  thee  in  the  dawn  hath  sped, 

And  the  cot  on  the  mountain  grey, 

For  the  Watcher  hath  cried  this  day  : 
He  of  the  ancient  folk. 

The  walker  of  waste  and  hill, 
Who  drinketh  the  milk  of  the  flock ; 

And  he  told  of  Hera's  will ; 
For  the  morrow's  morrow  now 

They  cry  her  festival. 
And  before  her  throne  shall  bow 
Our  damsels  all 


Elkctra. 

Not  unto  joy,  nor  sweet 
Music,  nor  shining  of  gold. 

The  wings  of  my  spirit  beat. 
Let  the  brides  of  Argos  hold 
Their  dance  in  the  night,  as  of  old  ; 

I  lead  no  dance  ;  I  mark 

No  beat  as  the  dancers  sway  ;     ^ 

With  tears  I  dwell  in  the  dark,     '^C^ 
And  my  thought  is  of  tears  alway, 
To  the  going  down  of  the  day. 

Look  on  my  wasted  hair 

And  raiment.  .  .  .  This  that  I  bear, 


la  EURIPIDES 

Is  it  meet  for  the  King  my  sire, 

And  her  whom  the  King  begot  ? 
For  Troy,  that  was  burned  with  fire 
And  forgetteth  not  ? 

Choru*. 
Other  Women, 

Hera  is  great ! — Ah,  come,  [Aniistrophi, 

Be  kind  ;  and  my  hand  shall  bring 
Fair  raiment,  work  of  the  loom. 

And  many  a  golden  thing, 

For  joyous  robe-wearing. 
Deemest  thou  this  thy  woe 

Shall  rise  unto  God  as  prayer, 
Or  bend  thine  haters  low  ? 

Doth  God  for  thy  pain  have  care  ? 
Not  tears  for  the  dead  nor  sighs. 

But  worship  and  joy  divine 
Shall  win  thee  peace  in  thy  skies, 
O  daughter  mine  I 

Elkctra. 

No  care  cometh  to  God 

For  the  voice  of  the  helpless  ;  none 
For  the  crying  of  ancient  blood. 

Alas  for  him  that  is  gone. 

And  for  thee,  O  wandering  one : 
That  now,  methinks,  in  a  land 

Of  the  stranger  must  toil  for  hire, 
And  stand  where  the  poor  men  stand, 

A-cold  by  another's  fire, 

O  son  of  the  mighty  sire : 


ELECTRA  13 

While  I  in  a  beggar's  cot 

On  the  wrecked  hills,  changing  not. 

Starve  in  my  soul  for  food  ; 

But  our  mother  licth  wed 
In  another's  arms,  and  blood 
Is  about  her  bed. 


LlADSR. 

On  all  of  Greece  she  wrought  great  jeopardy, 
Thy  mother's  sister,  Helen, — and  on  thee. 

[Orestes  and  Pyladks  move  out  from  their  con- 
cealment ;  Orestes  comes  forward :  Pyladks 
beckons  to  two  Armed  Servants  and  stays 
with  them  in  the  background, 

Elkctra. 

Woe's  me  1     No  more  of  wailing  !     Women,  flee  ! 
Strange  armid  men  beside  the  dwelling  there 
Lie  ambushed  !     They  are  rising  from  their  lair. 
Back  by  the  road,  all  you.     I  will  essay 
The  house ;  and  may  our  good  feet  save  us  ! 

Orestes  {between  Electra  and  the  hut). 

Star, 
Unhappy  woman  !     Never  fear  my  steel. 

Electra  {in  utter  panic), 

O  bright  Apollo  1     Mercy  I     See,  I  kneel ; 
Slay  me  not 


14  EURIPIDES 

Orestes. 

Others  I  have  yet  to  slay 
Less  dear  than  thou. 

Elsctra. 

Go  from  me  !     Wouldst  thou  Uf 
Hand  on  a  body  that  is  not  for  thee  ? 

Orestes. 
None  is  there  I  would  touch  more  righteously. 

Elsctra. 

Why  lurk'st  thou  by  my  house  ?     And  why  a  sword  ? 

Orestes. 
Stay.     Listen  I     Thou  wilt  not  gainsay  my  word. 

Electra. 
There — I  am  still.     Do  what  thou  wilt  with  me. 
Thou  art  too  strong. 

Orestes. 

A  word  I  bear  to  thee  •  •  • 
Word  of  thy  brother. 

Electra. 
Oh,  friend  I     More  than  friend  I 
Living  or  dead  ? 

Orestes. 
He  lives ;  so  let  me  send 
My  comfort  foremost,  ere  the  rest  be  heard. 


ELECTRA  15 

Electra. 
God  love  thcc  for  the  sweetness  of  thy  word  I 

Orkstks. 
God  love  the  twain  of  us,  both  thee  and  me. 

Elkctra. 
He  lives !     Poor  brother  I     In  what  land  weareth  he 
His  exile  ? 

Orestes. 
Not  one  region  nor  one  lot 
His  wasted  life  hath  trod. 

Elbctra. 

He  lacketh  not 
For  bread  ? 


In  exile. 


Orestes. 

Bread  hath  he  ;  but  a  man  is  weak 

Electra. 

What  charge  laid  he  on  thee  i     Speak. 

Orestes. 

To  learn  if  thou  still  live,  and  how  the  storm. 
Living,  hy.th  struck  thee. 

Electra. 

That  thou  secst ;  this  form 
Was'^cd  .  ,  . 


i6  EURIPIDES 

Orxstbs. 
Yea,  riven  with  the  fire  of  woe 
I  sigh  to  look  on  thee. 

Elkctra. 

Mj  fsice  ;  and,  lo, 
My  temples  of  their  ancient  glory  shorn. 

Orestis. 

Methinks  thy  brother  haunts  thee,  being  forlorn ; 
Aye,  and  perchance  thy  father,  whom  they  slew.  . 

Elbctra. 
What  should  be  nearer  to  me  than  those  two  ? 

Orestbs. 
And  what  to  him,  thy  brother,  half  so  dear 
As  thou  ? 

Elkctra. 
His  it  a  distant  love,  not  near 
At  need. 

Orestes. 

But  why  this  dwelling  place,  this  life 
Of  loneliness  ? 

Electra  {with  sudden  hitttrtufs). 

Stranger,  I  am  a  wife.  •  •  • 
O  better  dead  I 


ELECTRA  17 

Orestes. 

That  seals  thy  brother's  doom  ! 
What  Prince  of  Argos  .  .  .  ? 

Electra. 

Not  the  man  to  whom 
My  father  thought  to  give  mc. 

Orestes. 

Speak ;  that  I 
May  tell  thy  brother  all. 

Electra. 

'Tis  there,  hard  by, 
His  dwelling,  where  I  live,  far  from  men's  eyes. 

Orestes. 
Some  ditcher's  cot,  or  cowherd's,  by  its  guise  ! 

Electra  {struct  with  shame  for  her  ingratitude). 
A  poor  man  ;  but  true-hearted,  and  to  mc 
God-fearing. 

Orestes. 
How  ?     What  fear  of  God  hath  he  ? 

Electra. 
He  hath  never  held  my  body  to  his  own. 

Orestes. 
Hath  he  some  vow  to  keep  ?     Or  is  it  done 
To  scorn  thee  I 


il  EURIPIDES 

l'^^  EtECTRA. 

Agatntt  my  father's  greatness. 

Orestbs. 

But  to  win 
A  princess  I     Doth  his  heart  not  leap  for  pride  ? 

Electra. 
He  honoureth  not  the  hand  that  gave  the  bride. 

Orsstis. 
I  see.     He  trembles  for  Orestes'  wrath  ? 

£lectra. 
Aye,  that  would  move  him.     But  beside,  he  hath 
A  gentle  heart. 

Orestbs. 

Strange  I     A  good  man.  ...  I  swear 
He  well  shall  be  requited. 

Electra. 

Whensoc'er 
Our  wanderer  comes  again  I 

Orestbs. 

Thy  mother  stays 
Unmoved  'mid  all  thy  wrong  ? 

Electra. 
\  A  lover  weighs 

/  More  than  i  child  in  any  woman's  heart. 


ELECTRA  19 

OREarris, 

But  what  end  seeks  Aegisthus,  by  such  art 
Of  shame  ? 

Electra. 

To  make  mine  unborn  children  low 
And  weak,  even  as  my  husband, 

Orkstks. 

Lest  there  grow 
From  thee  the  avenger  ? 

Electra. 

Such  his  purpose  it : 
For  which  may  I  requite  him  1 

Orestes. 

And  of  this 
Thy  virgin  life — Aegisthus  knows  it  ? 

Electra. 

Nay, 
We  speak  it  not.     It  cometh  not  his  way, 

Orestes. 
These  women  hear  us.     Are  they  friends  to  thee  ? 

Electra. 

Aye,  friends  and  true.     They  will  keep  fiiithfiilly 
All  words  of  mine  and  thine. 


) 


ao  EURIPIDES 

Orestes  {trying  her). 

Thou  art  well  stayed 
With  friends.     And  could  Orestes  give  thee  »id 
In  aught,  if  e'er  .  .  . 

Electra. 

Shame  on  thee  I     Seest  thou  not  ? 
Is  it  not  time  ? 

Orestes  {catching  her  excitement). 

How  time  ?     And  if  he  sought 
To  slay,  how  should  he  come  at  his  desire  ? 

Electra. 
By  daring,  as  they  dared  who  slew  his  sire  I 

Orestes. 

Wouldst  thou  dare  with  him,  if  he  came,  thou  too, 
To  slay  her? 

Electra. 
Yes  ;  with  the  same  axe  that  slew 
My  father  1 

Orestes. 
'Tis  thy  message  ?     And  thy  mood 
Unchanging  ? 

Electra. 


Let  me  shed  my  mother's  blood. 


And  I  die  happy. 


ELECTRA  ai 

Orestes, 

God  I  ...  I  would  that  now 
Orestes  heard  thee  here. 

Electra. 

Yet,  wottest  thou, 
Though  here  I  saw  him,  I  should  know  him  not. 

Orestes. 

Surely.     Ye  both  were  children,  when  they  wrought 
Your  parting. 

Electra, 
One  alone  in  all  this  land 
Would  know  his  face. 

Orestes. 

The  thrall,  methinks,  whose  hand 
Stole  him  from  death — or  so  the  story  ran  ? 

Electra. 
He  taught  my  father,  too,  an  old  old  man 
Of  other  days  than  these. 

Orestes. 

Thy  ftither*s  grave  .  .  . 
He  had  due  rites  and  tendance  ? 

Electra. 

What  chance  gave, 
My  ^ther  had,  cast  out  to  rot  in  the  sun. 


it  EURIPIDES 

Orestes. 
God,  'tis  too  much  I  .  .  .  To  hear  of  such  things  done 
Even  to  a  stranger,  stings  a  man.  .  .  .  But  speak, 
Tell  of  thy  life,  that  I  may  know,  and  seek 
Thy  brother  with  a  talc  that  must  be  heard 
Howe'er  it  sicken.     If  mine  eyes  be  blurred. 
Remember,  'tis  the  fool  that  feels  not.     Aye, 
Wisdom  is  full  of  pity ;  and  thereby 
Men  pay  for  too  much  wisdom  with  much  pain. 

Leader. 
My  heart  is  moved  as  this  man's.     I  would  fain 
Learn  all  thy  tale.     Here  dwelling  on  the  hills 
Little  I  know  of  Argos  and  its  ills. 

Electra. 

If  I  must  speak — and  at  love's  call,  God  knows, 

I  fear  not — I  will  tell  thee  all ;  my  woes, 

My  father's  woes,  and — O,  smce  thou  hast  stirred 

This  storm  of  speech,  thou  bear  him  this  my  word — 

H  i  s  woes  and  shame  I     Tell  of  this  narrow  cloak 

In  the  wind  ;  this  grime  and  reek  of  toil,  that  choke 

My  breathing  ;  this  low  roof  that  bows  my  head 

After  a  king's.     This  raiment  .  .  .  thread  by  thread, 

*Tis  I  must  weave  it,  or  go  bare — must  bring, 

Myself,  eiih  jar  of  water  from  the  spring 

No  holy  day  for  me,  no  festival. 

No  dance  upon  the  green  I     From  all,  from  mil 

I  am  cut  oC     No  portion  hath  my  life 

*Mid  wives  of  Argos,  being  no  true  wife. 

No  portion  where  the  maidens  throng  to  praise 

Castor — my  Cattor,  whon^i  in  ancient  dayt, 


ELECTRA  23 

Ere  he  passed  from  us  and  men  worshipped  him. 
They  named  my  bridegroom  I — 

And  she,  s  h  e  I  .  .  .  The  grim 
Troy  spoils  gleam  round  her   throne,  and   by    each 

hand 
Queens  of  the  East,  my  fathcr^s  prisoners,  stand, 
A  cloud  of  Orient  webs  and  tangling  gold. 
And  there  upon  the  floor,  the  blood,  the  old 
Black  blood,  yet  crawls^aTid_canJkcrsJij^^  jUi^^  k  ^ 

In  the  stone !     And  on  our  father's  chariot 
The  murderer's  foot  stands  glorying,  and  the  red 
False  hand  uplifts  that  ancient  staff,  that  led 
The  armies  of  the  world  I  .  .  .  Aye,  tell  him  how 
The  grave  of  Agamemnon,  even  now, 
Lacketh  the  common  honour  of  the  dead ; 
A  desert  barrow,  where  no  tears  are  shed. 
No  tresses  hung,  no  gift,  no  myrtle  spray. 
And  when  the  wine  is  in  him,  so  men  say, 
Our  mother's  mighty  master  leaps  thereon. 
Spurning  the  slab,  or  pelteth  stone  on  stone. 
Flouting  the  lone  dead  and  the  twain  that  live  : 
"  Where  is  thy  son  Orestes  ?     Doth  he  give 
Thy  tomb  good  tendance  ?     Or  is  all  forgot  ? " 
So  is  he  scorned  because  he  cometh  not.  .  .  . 
O  Stranger,  on  my  knees,  I  charge  thee,  tell 
This  tale,  not  mine,  but  of  dumb  wrongs  that  swell 
Crowding — and  I  the  trumpet  of  their  paift, 
This  tongue,  these  arms,  this  bitter  burning  brain ; 
These    dead    shorn    locks,   and    he   for   whom   they 

died  I 
His  father  slew  Troy's  thousands  in  their  pride  : 
He  hath  but  one  to  kill.  .  .  .  O  God,  but  one ! 
Is  he  a  man,  and  Agamemnon's  son  P  '* 


24  £URIPIO£S 

Lbader. 

But  hold :  is  this  thy  husband  from  the  plain. 
His  labour  ended,  hasting  home  again  ? 

^     Enter  the  Peasant. 

Peasant. 

Ha,  who  be  these  I     Strange  men  in  arms  before 
My  house  !     What  would  they  at  this  lonely  door  ? 
Seek  they  for  me  ? — Strange  gallants  should  not  stay 
A  woman's  goings. 

Electra. 
Friend  and  helper  I — Nay, 
Think  not  of  any  evil.     These  men  be 
Friends  of  Orestes,  charged  with  words  for  me  I  .  .  , 
Strangers,  forgive  his  speech. 

Peasant, 

What  word  have  they 
Of  him  ?     At  least  he  lives  and  sees  the  day  ? 

Electra. 
So  fares  their  tale — and  sure  I  doubt  it  not  I 

Peasant, 
And  ye  two  still  are  living  in  his  thought, 
Thou  and  his  father  ? 

Electra. 
In  his  dreams  we  lire. 
An  exile  hath  small  power. 


ELECTRA  15 

Feasant. 

And  did  he  give 
Some  privy  message  ? 

Electra. 

None  :  they  come  as  spies 
For  news  of  me. 

Peasant. 

Thine  outward  news  their  eyes 
Can  see ;  the  rest,  mcthinks,  thyself  will  telL 

Elbctra. 
They  have  seen  all,  heard  all.     I  trust  them  well. 

Peasant. 

Why  were  our  doors  not  open  long  ago  ? —       \JJm  if^t^^hr 

Be  welcome,  strangers  both,  and  pass  below 

My  lintel.     In  return  for  your  glad  words 

Be  sure  all  greeting  that  mine  house  affords 

Is  yours. — Ye  followers,  bear  in  their  gear  I — 

Gainsay  me  not ;  for  his  sake  are  ye  dear 

That  sent  you  to  our  house  ;  and  though  my  part 

In  life  be  low,  I  ani  no  churl  at  heart. 

[Thi  Peasant  gets  to  the  Armed  Servants  at 
the  back^  to  help  them  with  the  baggage, 

Orestes  {aside  to  Electra). 

Is  this  the  man  that  shields  thy  maidenhood 
Unknown,  and  will  not  wrong  thy  father's  blood  ? 


a6  EURIPIDES 

Elbctra. 
He  is  called  my  husband.     'Tis  for  him  I  toiL 

'   ,'--^  Orestbs. 

How  dark  lies  honour  hid  I     And  what  turmoil 
In  all  things  human  :  sons  of  mighty  men 
Fallen  to  naught,  and  from  ill  seed  again 
Good  fruit  :  yea,  famine  in  the  rich  man's  scroll 
Writ  deep,  and  in  poor  flesh  a  lordly  soul. 
As,  lo,  this  man,  not  great  in  Argos,  not 
With  pride  of  house  uplifted,  in  a  lot 
Of  unmarked  life  hath  shown  a  prince's  grace. 

[To  tht  Peasant,  who  has  returnecU 
All  that  is  here  of  Agamemnon's  race, 
And  all  that  lacketh  yet,  for  whom  we  come, 
Do  thank  thee,  and  the  welcome  of  thy  home 
Accept  with  gladness. — Ho,  men  ;  hasten  ye 
Within  !  — This  open-hearted  poverty 
Is  blither  to  my  sense  than  feasts  of  gold. 

Lady,  thine  husband's  welcome  makes  me  bold  ; 
Yet  would  thou  hadst  thy  brother,  before  all 
Confessed,  to  greet  us  in  a  prince's  hall  I 
Which  may  be,  even  yet.     Apollo  spake 
The  word  ;  and  surely,  though  small  store  I  make 
Of  man's  divining,  God  will  fail  us  not, 

[Orestbs  and  Pylades  go  in^  following  thi 
Sebvants. 

Leader. 

O  never  was  the  heart  of  hope  so  hot 

Within  me.     How  ?     So  moveless  in  time  past. 

Hath  Fortune  girded  up  her  loint  at  last  I 


ELECTRA  27 

ELECTRAi 

Now  know*st  thou  not  thine  own  ill  furniture^ 
To  bid  these  strangers  in,  to  whom  for  sure 
Our  best  were  hardship,  men  of  gentle  breed  ? 

PEASAN-r. 

Nay,  if  the  men  be  gentle,  as  indeed 

I  deem  them,  they  will  take  good  cheer  or  ill 

With  even  kindness. 

Electra, 

*Twas  ill  done  ;  but  still — 
Go,  since  so  poor  thou  art,  to  that  old  friend 
Who  reared  my  father.     At  the  realm's  last  end 
He  dwells,  where  Tanaos  river  foams  between 
Argos  and  Sparta.     Long  time  hath  he  been 
An  exile  'mid  his  flocks.     Tell  him  what  thing 
Hath  chanced  on  me,  and  bid  him  haste  and  bring 
Meat  for  the  strangers'  tending. — Glad,  I  trow. 
That  old  man's  heart  will  be,  and  many  a  vow 
Will  lift  to  God,  to  learn  the  child  he  stole 
From  death,  yet  breathes. — I  will  not  ask  a  dole 
From  home  ;  how  should  my  mother  help  me  i    Nay^ 
I  pity  him  that  seeks  that  door,  to  say 
Orestes  livcth  I 

Peasant. 

Wilt  thou  have  it  so  ? 
I  will  take  word  to  the  old  man.     But  go 
Quickly  W4thin,  and  whatso  there  thou  find 
Set  out  for  them.     A  woman,  if  her  mind 
So  turn,  can  light  on  many  a  pleasant  thing 
To  fill  her  board.     And  surely  plenishing 
Wc  have  for  this  one  day. — 'Tis  in  such  shifts 


2S  £URIPID£S 

As  these,  I  care  for  riches,  to  make  gifts 
To  friends,  or  lead  a  sick  man  back  to  health 
With  ease  and  plenty.     Else  small  aid  is  wealth 
For  daily  gladness  ;  once  a  man  be  done 
With  hunger,  rich  and  poor  are  all  as  one. 

[The  Peasant  goes  offu  the  left ;  Electra  goei 
into  the  house. 


Chorus. 

O  for  the  ships  of  Troy,  the  beat  [Strophe  i, 

Of  oars  that  shimmered 
Innumerable,  and  dancing  feet 

Of  Nereids  glimmered  ; 
And  dolphins,  drunken  with  the  lyre, 
Across  the  dark  blue  prows,  like  fire,   . 

Did  bound  and  quiver,     ^«.  ►'<'*^^ 
To  cleave  the  way  for  Thetis'  son, 
Fleet-in-the-wind  Achilles,  on 
To  war,  to  war,  till  Troy  be  won 

Beside  the  reedy  river. 

Up  from  Euboea's  caverns  came  [Antistrophe  i. 

The  Nereids,  bearing 
Gold  armour  from  the  Lords  of  Flame, 

Wrought  for  his  wearing  : 
Long  sought  those  daughters  of  the  deep, 
Ud  Pelion's  glen,  up  Ossa's  steep 

Forest  enchanted. 
Where  Peleus  reared  alone,  afar. 
His  lost  sea-maiden's  child,  the  star 
Of  Hellas,  and  swift  help  of  war 

When  wntry  armies  oanted. 


ELECTRA  :I9 

There  came  a  man  from  Troy,  and  told      [Strophe  2, 

Here  in  the  haven,  ^  ko^m 
How,  orb  on  orb,  to  strike  with  cold 
The  Trojan,  o'er  that  targe  of  gold. 

Dread  shapes  were  graven. 
All  round  the  level  rim  thereof 
Perseus,  on  wingid  feet,  above 

The  long  seas  hied  him  ; 
The  Gorgon's  wild  and  bleeding  hair 
He  lifted  ;  and  a  herald  i^Eiir, 
He  of  the  wilds,  whom  Maia  bare, 

God's  Hermes,  flew  beside  him. 

[Antistropht  2. 
But  midmost,  where  the  boss  rose  higher, 

A  sun  stood  blazing, 
And  winged  steeds,  and  stars  in  choir, 
Hyad  and  Pleiad,  fire  on  fire, 

For  Hector's  dazing : 
Across  the  golden  helm,  each  way. 
Two  taloncd  Sphinxes  held  their  prey, 

Song-drawn  to  slaughter : 
And  round  the  breastplate  ramping  came 
A  mingled  breed  of  lion  and  flamcj__ /p 
Hot-eyed  to  tear  that  stee^  of  fame  /  ^ 

That  found  Pir^n^'s  water. 


The  red  red  sword  with  steeds  four-yoked         [Epsde, 

Black-maned,  was  graven. 
That  laboured,  and  the  hot  dust  smoked 

Cloudwise  to  heaven. 


30  EURIPIDES 

Thou  Tyndarid  woman  I     Fair  and  tall 
Thos^  warriors  were,  and  o'er  them  all 

One  king  great-hearted. 
Whom  thou  and  thy  false  love  did  slay : 
Therefore  the  tribes  of  Heaven  one  day 
For  these  thy  dead  shall  send  on  thee 
An  iron  death  :  yea,  men  shall  see 
The  white  throat  drawn,  and  blood's  red  spray, 
And  lips  in  terror  parted. 

J[Js  they  cease^  there  enters  from  the  left  a  very 
•Id  mariy  hearing  a  lamb^  a  wineskin^  and 
a  walltt. 


Old  Man. 

Where  is  my  little  Princess  ?     Ah,  not  now  ; 
But  still  my  queen,  who  tended  long  ago 
The  lad  that  was  her  father.  .  .  .  How  steep-set 
These  last  steps  to  her  porch  I     But  faint  not  yet : 
Onward,  ye  foiling  knees  and  back  with  pain 
Bowed,  till  we  look  on  that  dear  face  again. 

\Enter  Electha. 
Ah,  daughter,  is  it  thou  ? — Lo,  here  I  am. 
With  gifts  from  all  my  store ;  this  suckling  lamb 
Fresh  from  the  ewe,  green  crowns  for  joy  fulness, 
And  creamy  things  new-curdled  from  the  press. 
And  this  long-storid  juice  of  vintages 
Forgotten,  cased  in  fragrance  :  scant  it  is, 
But  passing  sweet  to  mingle  nectar-wise 
With  feebler  wine. — Go,  bear  them  in;  mine  eyes  .  *  • 
Where   is   my  cloak? — They   arc   all    blurred   with 
tears. 


ELECTRA  31 


Electra. 


What  ails  thine  eyes,  old  friend  ?     After  these  years 
Doth  my  low  plight  still  stir  thy  memories  ? 
Or  think'st  thou  of  Orestes,  where  he  lies 
In  exile,  and  my  father  ?     Aye,  long  love 
Thou  gavcst  him,  and  sccst  the  fruit  thereof 
Wasted,  for  thee  and  all  who  love  thee  I 


Old  Mam. 

All 
Wasted !     And  yet  'tis  that  lost  hope  withal 
I  cannot  brook.     But  now  I  turned  aside 
To  sec  my  master's  grave.     All,  far  and  wide. 
Was  silence  ;  so  I  bent  these  knees  of  mine 
And  wept  and  poured  drink-offerings  from  the  wine 
I  bear  the  strangers,  and  about  the  stone 
Laid  myrtle  sprays.     And,  child,  I  saw  thereon 
Just  at  the  censer  slain,  a  fleeced  ewe. 
Deep  black,  in  sacrifice  :  the  blood  was  new 
About  it :  and  a  tress  of  bright  brown  hair 
Shorn  as  in  mourning,  close.     Long  stood  I  there 
And  wondered,  of  all  men  what  man  had  gone 
In  mourning  to  that  grave. — My  child,  'tis  none 
In   Argos.      Did   there  come    .    .    .   Nay,  mark  me 

now  ... 
Thy  brother  in  the  dark,  last  night,  to  bow 
His  head  before  that  unador^d  tomb  ? 

O  come,  and  mark  the  colour  of  it.     Come 
And  lay  thine  own  hair  by  that  mourner's  tress  I 
A  hundred  little  things  make  likenesses 
In  brethren  born^  and  show  the  father^s  blood. 


3i  EURIPIDES 

Electra  {trying  t9  mask  her  ixcitement  and  resist  thi 
contagion  of  his). 
Old  heart,  old  heart,  is  this  a  wise  man^s  mood  ?  .  •  . 
O,  not  in  darkness,  not  in  fear  of  men, 
Shall  Argos  find  him,  when  he  comes  again. 
Mine  own  undaunted  .  .  .  Nay,  and  if  it  were. 
What  likeness  could  there  be  ?     My  brother's  hair 
Is  as  a  prince's  and  a  rover's,  strong 
With  sunlight  and  with  strife  :  not  like  the  long 
Locks  that  a  woman  combs.  .  .  .  And  many  a  head 
A     Hath  this  same  semblance,  wing  for  wing,  tho'  bred 
Of  blood  not  ours.  .  .  .  *Tis  hopeless.     Peace,  old 
man. 

Old  Mam. 
The  footprints  I     Set  thy  foot  by  his,  and  scan 
The  track  of  frame  and  muscles,  how  they  fit  I 

Electra. 
That  ground  will  take  no  footprint  I     All  of  it 
Is  bitter  stone.  ...  It  hath  ?  .  .  .  And  who  hath 

said 
There  should  be  likeness  in  a  brother's  tread 
And  sister's  ?     His  is  stronger  ercry  way. 

Old  Mam. 
But  hast  thou  nothing  .  .  .  ?     If  he  came  this  day 
And  sought  to  show  thee,  is  there  no  one  sign 
Whereby  to  know   him  f  .  .  .  Stay ;   the  robe  was 

thine. 
Work  of  thy  loom,  wherein  I  wrapt  him  o'er 
Thai  .:«eht.  and  stole  him  through  the  murderers'  door. 


ELECTRA  33 

Electra. 
Thou  knowest,  when  Orestes  was  cast  out 
I  was  a  child.  ...  If  I  did  weave  some  clout 
Of  raiment,  would  he  keep  the  vesture  now 
He  wore  in  childhood  ?     Should  my  weaving  grow 
As   his  limbs  grew  ?  .  .  .  *Tis  lost  long  since.     No 

more  I 
O,  either  'twas  some  stranger  passed,  and  shore 
His  locks  for  very  ruth  before  that  tomb  : 
Or,  if  he  found  perchance,  to  seek  his  home, 
Some  spy  .  .  . 

Old  Man. 

The  strangers  I     Where  arc  they  ?     I  fain 
Would  sec  them,  aye,  and  bid  them  answer  plain  .  .  . 

Electra. 
Here  at  the  door  !     How  swift  upon  the  thought ! 

Enter  Orestes  and  Pylades. 
Old  Man. 
High-born  :  albeit  for  that  I  trust  them  not. 
The  highest  oft  are  false.  .  .  .  Howe'er  it  be, 

[Approaching  them, 
I  bid  the  strangers  hail  I 

Orestes. 

All  hail  to  thcc, 
Greybeard  I-^Prithee,  what  man  of  all  the  King 
Trusted  of  old,  is  now  this  broken  thing  ? 

Electra. 
'Tis  he  that  trained  my  father's  boyhood. 


34  EURIPIDES 

Orestes. 

How? 
And  stoic  from  death  thy  brother  ?     Sayest  thou  ? 

Electra. 
Q  This  man  was  his  deliverer,  if  it  be 
Deliverance, 

Orestes. 

How  his  old  eye  pierceth  me, 
As  one  that  tcstcth  silver  and  alloy  I 
Sees  he  some  likeness  here  ? 

Electra. 

Perchance  'tis  joy. 
To  see  Orestes'  comrade,  that  he  feels. 

Orestes. 
None  dearer. — But  what  ails  the  man  ?     He  reels 
Dizzily  back. 

Electra. 
I  marvel.     I  can  say 
No  more. 

Old  Man  (in  a  brtken  voict), 

Electra,  mistress,  daughter,  pray  I 
Pray  unto  God  1 

Electra. 
Of  all  the  things  I  crave. 
The  thousand  things,  or  all  that  others  have, 
What  should  I  pray  for  ? 


ELECTRA  35 

Old  Man. 
0  Trxy  thine  arms  may  hold 

At  last  this  treasure-dream  of  more  than  gol^ 
God  shows  us  I 

Electra. 
God,  I  pray  thee  I  .  .  .  Wouldst  thou  more  ? 

Old  Man. 
Gaze  now  upon  this  man,  and  bow  before 
Thy  dearest  upon  earth ! 

Electra. 

I  gaze  on  t  h  e  e  I 
O,  hath  time  made  thee  mad  ? 

Old  Man. 

Mad,  that  I  see 
Thy  brother  ? 

Electra. 
My  ...  I  know  not  what  thou  say'st : 
I  looked  not  for  it  .  .  . 

Old  Man. 

I  tell  thee,  here  confessed 
Standeth  Orestes,  Agamemnon's  sou  I 

Electra. 
A  sign  before  I  trust  thee  !     O,  but  one  ! 
How  dost  thou  know  .  .  .  ? 


36  •        EURIPIDES 

Old  Man.  ' 

There,  by  his  brow,  I  sec 
The  scar  he  made,  that  day  he  ran  with  thee 
Chasing  thy  fawn,  and  fell. 

Electra  [in  a  dull  voice), 

A  scar  ?     'Tis  so. 
I  see  a  scar. 

Old  Man. 
And  fearest  still  to  throw 
Thine  arms  round  him  thou  lovest  ? 

Electra. 

O,  no  more  I 
Thy  sign  hath  conquered  me.  .  .  .  {throwing  herselj 

into  Orestes'  arms).     At  last,  at  lasc  \ 
Thy  face  like  light !     And  do  I  hold  thee  hst, 
Unhoped  for  I 

Orestes. 
Yea,  at  last  1     And  I  hold  thee. 

Electra. 
I  never  knew  •  «  • 

Orestes. 
I  dreamed  not. 

Elsctra. 

Is  it  hc^ 
Orestes  f 


ELECTRA  37 

Orestes. 

Thy  defender,  yea,  alone 
To  fight  the  world  I     Lo,  this  day  have  I  thrown 
A  net,  which  once  unbroken  from  the  sea 
Drawn  home,  shall  .  .  .  O,  and  it  must  surely  be ! 
Else  men  shall  know  there  is  no  God,  no  light 
In  Heaven,  if  wrong  to  the  end  shall  conquer  right. 

Chorus. 

Comest  thou,  comest  thou  now, 
Chained  by  the  years  and  slow, 

O  Day  long  sought  ? 
A  light  on  the  mountains  cold 
Is  lit,  yea,  a  fire  burneth. 
*Tis  the  light  of  one  that  turneth 
From  roamings  manifold. 
Back  out  of  exile  old 

To  the  house  that  knew  him  not. 

Some  spirit  hath  turned  our  way, 

Victory  visible. 
Walking  at  thy  right  hand. 
Beloved  ;  O  lift  this  day 
Thine  arms,  thy  voice,  as  a  spell ; 
And  pray  for  thy  brother,  pray, 
Threading  the  perilous  land. 

That  all  be  well ! 

Orestes. 

Enough  ;  this  dear  delight  is  mine  at  last 
Of  thine  embracing  ;  and  the  hour  comes  fast 


38  EURIPIDES 

When  we  shall  stand  again  as  now  we  stand. 
And  stint  not. — Stay,  Old  Man  :  thou,  being  at  hand 
At  the  edge  of  time,  advise  me,  by  what  way 
Best  to  requite  my  father's  murderers.     Say, 
Have  I  in  Argos  any  still  to  trust ; 
Or  is  the  love,  once  borne  me,  trod  in  dust. 
Even  as  my  fdrrnnes  are  ?     Whom  shall  I  seek  ? 
^       By  day  or  night  ?     And  whither  turn,  to  wreak 
^       My  will  on  them  that  hate  us  ?     Say. 

Old  Man. 

My  son. 
In  thine  adversity,  there  is  not  one 
Will  call  thee  friend.     Nay,  that  were  treasure-trovei 
A  friend  to  share,  not  faltering  from  love, 

Fair  days  and  foul  the  same.      Thy  name  is  gone 

—  Forth  to  all  Argos,  as  a  thing  o'erthrown 
r-  And  dead.     Thou  hast  not  left  one  spark  to  glow 
J)  With  hope  in  one   friend's   heart  I      Hear  all,  and 
/  know : 

/Thou  hast  God's  fortune  and  thine  own  right  hand, 
V  Naught  else,  to  conquer  back  thy  fatherland. 

Orestbs. 
The  deed,  the  deed  I     What  must  we  do  ? 

Old  Mam. 

Strike  down 
Aegisthus  .  •  •  and  thy  mother. 

Orestes. 

•Tis  the  crown 
My  race  is  run  for.     But  how  find  him  i 


ELECTRA  39 

Old  Man. 

Not 

Within  the  city  walls,  however  hot 
Thj  spirit. 

Orestes. 
Ha  !     With  watchers  doth  he  go 
Begirt,  and  mailed  pikemen  ? 

Old  Man. 

Even  so : 
He  lives  in  rear  of  thee,  and  night  nor  day 
Hath  slumber. 

Orestes. 
That  way  blocked  I — 'Tis  thine  to  say 
What  next  remains. 

Old  Man. 
I  will ;  and  thou  give  ear. 
A  thought  has  found  me  1 

Orestes. 

All  good  thoughts  be  near, 
For  thee  to  speak  and  me  to  understand  I 

Old  Man 
But  now  I  saw  Aegisthus,  close  at  hana 
As  here  I  journeyed. 

Orestes. 
That  good  word  shall  liacc 
My  path  for  me !    Thou  saw'st  him  ?    In  what  place  ? 


^40  EURIPIDES 

Old  Man, 
Out  on  the  pastures  where  his  horses  stray. 

Orestes. 

What  did  he  there  so  far  ? — A  gleam  of  day 
Crosseth  our  darkness. 

Old  Man. 

'Twas  a  feast,  methought, 
Of  worship  to  the  wild- wood  nymphs  he  wrought. 

Orestes. 
The  watchers  of  men's  birth  ?     Is  there  a  son 
New  born  to  him,  or  doth  he  pray  for  one 
That  Cometh  ?  [Movement  ^Electra. 

Old  Man. 

More  I  know  not ;  he  had  there 
A  wreathed  ox,  as  for  some  weighty  prayer. 

Orestes. 
What  force  was  with  him  ?     Not  his  serfis  alone  ? 

Old  Man. 

No  Argive  lord  was  there ;  none  but  his  own 
Household. 

Orestes. 
Not  any  that  might  know  my  race, 
Or  guess  ? 

Old  Man. 
Thralls,  thralls ;  who  ne'er  have  seen  thy  fiicc. 


ELECTRA  41 

Orestes. 
Once  I  prevail,  the  thralls  will  welcome  me  I 

Old  Man. 
The  slaves'  way,  that ;  and  no  ill  thing  for  thee  1 

Orestes. 
How  can  I  once  come  near  him  ? 

Old  Man. 

Walk  thy  ways 
Hard  by,  where  he  may  see  thee,  ere  he  slays 
His  sacrifice. 

Orestes. 

How  ?     Is  the  road  so  nigh  i 

Old  Man. 

He  cannot  choose  but  see  thee,  passing  by, 
'r    And  bid  thee  stay  to  share  the  beast  they  kill. 

Orestes. 
A  bitter  fellow-feaster,  if  God  will  I 

Old  Man. 

And  then  .  .  .  then  swift  be  heart  and  brain,  to  see 
God's  chalices  I 

Orestes. 

Aye.     Well  hast  thou  counselled  me. 
But  .  *  .  where  is  she? 


4a  EURIPIDES 

Old  Man. 

In  Argos  now,  I  guess ; 
But  goes  to  join  her  husband,  ere  the  press 
Of  the  feast. 

Orestes. 

Why  gocth  not  my  mother  straight 
Forth  at  her  husband's  side  ? 

Old  Man. 

She  fain  will  wait 
Until  the  gathered  country-folk  be  gone. 

Orestes. 
Enough  I     She  knows  what  eyes  are  turned  upon 
Her  passings  in  the  land  I 

Old  Man. 

Aye,  all  men  hate 
The  unholy  woman. 

Orestes. 
How  then  can  I  set 
My  snare  for  wife  and  husband  in  one  breath  ? 

Electra  {ctming  firward). 
Hold  I    It  is  I  must  work  our  mother's  death. 

Orkstbs. 
If  that  be  done,  I  think  the  other  deed 
Fortune  will  guide. 


ELECTRA  43 

Elbctra, 
This  man  must  help  our  need, 
One  friend  alone  for  both. 

Old  Man. 

He  will,  he  will  I 
Speak  on.    What  cunning  hast  thou  found  to  fill 
Thy  purpose  ? 

Electra. 
Get  thee  forth.  Old  Man,  and  quick 
Tell  Qytemnestra  .  .  .  tell  her  I  lie  sick, 
~  New-mothered  of  a  man-child. 

Old  Man. 

Thou  hast  borne 
A  son  I     But  when  ? 

Electra. 
Let  this  be  the  tenth  morn. 
Till  then  a  mother  stays  in  sanctity, 
Unseen. 

Old  Man. 
And  if  I  tell  her,  where  shall  be 
The  death  in  this  ? 

Electra. 

That  word  let  her  but  hear. 
Straight  she  will  seek  me  out  \ 


EURIPIDES 


Old  Man. 

The  queen  I     What  care 
Hath  she  for  thee,  or  pain  of  thine  ? 

Electra. 

She  will ; 
And  weep  my  babe's  low  station  I 

Old  Man. 

Thou  hast  skill 
To  know  her,  child  ;  say  on. 

Elsctra. 

But  bring  her  here, 
Here  to  my  hand  ;  the  rest  will  come. 

Old  Man. 

I  swear, 
Here  at  the  gate  she  shall  stand  palpable  I 

Electra. 
The  gate :  the  gate  that  leads  to  me  and  Hell. 

Old  Man. 
Let  mc  but  see  it,  and  I  die  content. 

Electra. 
First,  then,  my  brother  :  see  his  steps  be  bent  .  •  • 

Old  Man. 
Straight  yonder,  where  Aegisthus  makes  his  prayer  I 


ELECTRA  45 

Electra. 

Then  seek  my  mother's  presence,  and  declare 
My  news. 

Old  Man. 

Thy  very  words,  child,  as  tho'  spoke 
From  thine  own  lips  I 

Electra. 
Brother,  thine  hour  is  struck* 
Thou  standest  in  the  van  of  war  this  day. 

Orestes  {rousing  himself). 

Aye,  I  am  iSady.  ...  I  will  go  my  way, 
If  but  some  man  will  guide  me. 

Old  Man. 

Here  am  I, 
To  speed  thee  to  the  end,  right  thankfully. 


V  Orestes  [turning  as  hi  goes  and  raising  his  hands  t9 
heaven), 

Zeus  of  my  sires,  Zeus  of  the  lost  battle, 

Electra. 
Have  pity  ;  have  pity  ;  we  have  earned  It  well ! 

Old  Man. 
Pity  these  twain,  of  thine  own  body  sprung ! 

Electra. 
O  Queen  o'er  Argive  altars,  Hera  high,  ^ 


46  EURIPIDES 

Orestes. 
Grant  us  thy  strength,  if  for  the  right  wc  cry. 

Old  Man. 
Strength  to  these  twain,  to  right  their  father's  wrong  I 

Electra. 

0  Earth,  deep  Earth,  to  whom  I  yearn  in  vain, 

Orestes. 
And  deeper  thou,  O  father  darkly  slain. 

Old  Man. 
Thy  children  call,  who  love  thee  :  hearken  thou  I 

Orestes. 
Girt  with  thine  own  dead  armies,  wake,  O  wake  I 

Electra. 
"i   With  all  that  died  at  Ilion  for  thy  sake  .  •  • 

Old  Man. 
And  hate  earth's  dark  deiilers  ;  help  us  now  ! 

Electra. 
Dost  hear  us  yet,  O  thou  in  deadly  wrong. 
Wronged  by  my  mother  ? 

Old  Man. 

Child,  we  stay  too  long. 
He  hears ;  be  sure  he  hears  I 

Electra. 

And  while  he  hears, 

1  tpeak  this  word  for  omen  in  his  eart ; 


ELECTRA  47 

"  Aegisthus  dies,  Acgisthus  dies."  .  .  .     Ah  me, 
My  brother,  should  it  strike  not  him,  but  thee, 
This  wrestling  with  dark  death,  behold,  I  too 
Am  dead  that  hour.     Think  of  me  as  one  true, 
Not  one  that  lives.     I  have  a  sword  made  keen 
For  this,  and  shall  strike  deep. 

I  will  go  in 
And  make  all  ready.     If  there  come  from  thee 
Good  tidings,  all  my  house  for  ecstasy 
Shall  cry ;  and  if  we  hear  that  thou  art  dead, 
Then  comes  the  other  end  ! — Lo,  I  have  said. 

Or^^tks. 
I  know  all,  all. 

Electra. 

Then  be  a  man  to-day  ! 
[Orestks  and  the  Old  Man  depart. 
O  Women,  let  your  voices  from  this  fray 
Flash  me  a  fiery  signal,  where  I  sit. 
The  sword  across  my  knees,  expecting  it. 
For  never,  though  they  kill  me,  shall  they  touch 
My  living  limbs ! — I  know  my  way  thus  much. 

[She  goes  into  the  house. 


Chorus. 

Whei;i  white-haired  folk  are  met  [Strophe, 

In  Argos  about  the  fold, 
\A  story  lingereth  yet, 

A  voice  of  the  mountains  old. 
That  tells  of  the  Lamb  of  Gold  : 


EURIPIDES 

A  lamb  from  a  mother  mild, 

But  the  gold  of  it  curled  and  beat ; 
And  Pan,  who  holdeth  the  keys  of  the  wild, 

Bore  it  to  Atreus"*  feet : 
His  wild  reed  pipes  he  blew, 

And  the  reeds  were  filled  with  peace, 
And  a  joy  of  singing  before  him  flew. 

Over  the  fiery  fleece  : 
And  up  on  the  basW  rock. 

As  a  herald  cries,  cried  he : 
"  Gather  ye,  gather,  O  Argive  folk. 

The  King's  Sign  to  see. 
The  sign  of  the  blest  of  God, 

For  he  that  hath  this,  hath  all  I " 
Therefore  the  dance  of  praise  they  trod 

In  the  Atreid  brethren's  hall. 

They  opened  before  men's  eyes  [Antistrophi. 

That  which  was  hid  before. 
The  chambers  of  sacrifice. 

The  dark  of  the  golden  door. 

And  fires  on  the  altar  floor. 
And  bright  was  every  street, 

And  the  voice  of  the  Muses'  tree,  * 

The  carven  lotus,  was  lifted  sweet ; 

When  afar  and  suddenly. 
Strange  songs,  and  a  voice  that  grew : 

"  Come  to  your  king,  ye  folk  ! 
Mine,  mine,  is  the  Golden  Ewe  1  ** 

'Twas  dark  Thyestes  spoke. 
For,  lo,  when  the  world  was  still. 

With  his  brother's  bride  he  lay, 
And  won  her  to  work  his  will. 

And  they  stole  the  Lamb  away  I 


ELECTRA  49 

Then  forth  to  the  folk  strode  he, 

And  called  them  about  his  fold, 
^And  showed  that  Sign  of  the  King  to  be, 
L  The  fleece  and  the  horns  of  gold. 

Then,  then,  the  world  was  changed  ;.       [Strophe  2 

And  the  Father,  where  they  ranged, 
Shook  the  golden  stars  and  glowing. 

And  the  great  Sun  stood  deranged 
In  the  glory  of  his  going. 

Lo,  from  that  day  forth,  the  East 

Bears  the  sunrise  on  his  breast. 
And  the  flaming  Day  in  heaven 

Down  the  dim  ways  of  the  west 
Driveth,  to  be  lost  at  even. 

The  wet  clouds  to  Northward  beat ; 

And  Lord  Ammon's  desert  seat 
Crieth  from  the  South,  unslaken, 

For  the  dews  that  once  were  sweet. 
For  the  rain  that  God  hath  taken. 

*Tis  a  children's  tale,  that  old  [Antistrophe  2. 

Shepherds  on  far  hills  have  told  ; 
And  we  reck  not  of  their  telling, 

Deem  not  that  the  Sun  of  gold 
Ever  turned  his  fiery  dwelling. 

Or  beat  backward  in  the  sky, 

For  the  wrongs  of  man,  the  cry 
Of  his  ailing  tribes  assembled, 

To  do  justly,  ere  they  die  ! 
Once,  men  told  the  tale,  and  trembled  ; 


50  EURIPIDES 

Fearing  God,  O  Queen  :  whom  thou 
Hast  forgotten,  till  thy  brow 

With  old  blood  is  dark  and  daunted. 
And  thy  brethren,  even  now, 

Walk  among  the  stars,  enchanted. 


Leadbr. 

Ha,  firiends,  was   that   a   voice?      Or   some   dream 

sound 
Of  voices  shaketh  me,  as  underground 
God's  thunder  shuddering  ?     Hark,  again,  and  clear  I 
It  swells  upon  the  wind. — Come  forth  and  hear  ! 
Mistress,  Electra  I 

Electra,  a  bare  sword  in  htr  hand^  comts 
from  the  house, 

Electra. 

Friends  I     Some  news  is  brought  ? 
How  hath  the  battle  ended  ? 

Leader. 

I  know  naught. 
There  seemed  a  cry  as  of  men  massacred  1 

Electra. 
I  heard  it  too.     Far  off,  but  still  I  heard. 

Leader. 
A  distant  floating  voice  .  .  .  Ah,  plainer  now  I 


ELECTRA  %i 

Electra. 
Of  Argivc  anguish  I — Brother,  is  it  thou  r 

Leader. 
I  know  not.     Many  confused  voices  ciy  •  • 

Electra. 
Death,  then  for  mc  I     That  answer  bids  me  die. 

Leader. 
Nay,  wait !     We  know  not  yet  thy  fortune.     Wait  I 

Electra. 
•;•  No  messenger  from  him  I — Too  late,  too  late ! 

Leader. 

/  The  message  yet  will  come.     'Tis  not  a  thing 
So  light  of  compass,  to  strike  down  a  king. 

Entir  a  Messenger,  running. 
Messenger. 
Victory,  Maids  of  Argos,  Victory  I 
Orestes  ...  all  that  love  him,  list  to  me  I  .  ,  . 
Hath  conquered  I     Agamemnon's  murderer  Hes 
Dead  I     O  give  thanks  to  God  with  happy  cries  1 

Electra. 
Who  art  thou  ?     I  mistrust  thee.  .  .  •  *Tis  a  plot  I 

Messenger. 
Thy  brother's  man.    Look  well.     Dost  know  me  not  ? 


5«  EURIPIDES 

Electra. 
Friend,  friend  ;  my  terror  made  me  not  to  sec 
Thy  visage.     Now  I  know  and  welcome  thee. 
How  sayst  thou  ?     He  is  dead,  verily  dead. 
My  father's  murderer  .  •  •  f 

Messenger. 

Shall  it  be  said 
Once  more  ?     I  know  again  and  yet  again 
Thy  heart  would  hear.     Aegisthus  lieth  slain  ! 

Electra. 

Ye  Gods  I     And  thou,  O  Right,  that  seest  all. 
Art  come  at  last  ?  .  .  .  But  speak  ;  how  did  he  fall  ? 
How   swooped   the   wing   of  death?    .  •  .    I   crave 
to  hear. 

Messenger. 

Forth  of  this  hut  we  set  our  faces  clear 

To  the  world,  and  struck  the  open  chariot  road ; 

Then  on  toward  the  pasture  lands,  where  stood 

The  great  Lord  of  Mycenae.     In  a  set 

Garden  beside  a  channelled  rivulet. 

Culling  a  myrtle  garland  for  his  brow. 

He  walked  :    but  hailed  us  as  we  passed  :    "  How  now, 

Strangers  I     Who  are  ye  ?     Of  what  city  sprung. 

And    whither    bound  ? "      "  Thessalians,*'    answered 

young 
Orestes  :  "  to  Alphetis  journeying. 
With  gifts  to  Olympian  Zeus."     Whereat  the  king : 
**  This  while,  beseech  you,  tarry,  and  make  full 
The  feast  upon  my  hearth.   tWc  slay  a  bull 


ELECTRA  53 

Here  to  the  NymphsJ    Set  forth  at  break  of  day 
To-morrow,  and  'twill  cost  you  no  delay. 
But  come  " — and  so  he  gave  his  hand,  and  led 
The  two  men  in — "  I  must  not  be  gainsaid  ; 
Come  to  the  house.     Ho,  there  ;  set  close  at  hand 
Vats  of  pure  water,  that  the  guests  may  stand 
At  the  altar's  verge,  where  falls  the  holy  spray." 
Then  quickly  spake  Orestes  :  "  By  the  way 
We  cleansed  us  in  a  torrent  stream.     We  need 
No  purifying  here,    .^ut  if  indeed 
Strangers  may  share  thy  worship,  here  are  wc 
Ready,  O  King,  and  swift  to  follow  thee." 
1       So  spoke  they  in  the  midst.     And  every  thrall 
Laid  down  the  spears  they  served  the  King  withal, 
And  hied  him  to  the  work.     Some  bore  amain 
The  death-vat,  some  the  corbs  of  hallowed  grain  ; 
Or  kindled  fire,  and  round  the  fire  and  in 
Set  cauldrons  foaming  ;  and  a  festal  din 
Filled  all  the  place.     Then  took  thy  mother's  lord 
The  ritual  grains,  and  o'er  the  altar  poured 
Its  due,  and   prayed :     "  O    Nymphs  of  Rock  and 

Mere, 
With  many  a  sacrifice  for  many  a  year, 
May  I  and  she  who  waits  at  home  for  me, 
My  Tyndarid  Queen,  adore  you.     May  it  be 
Peace  with  us  always,  even  as  now  ;  and  all 
\    111  to  mine  enemies  " — meaning  withal 

Thee  and  Orestes.     Then  my  master  prayed 
Against  that  prayer,  but  silently,  and  said 
No  word,  to  win  once  more  his  fatherland. 
Then  in  the  corb  Aegisthus  set  his  hand, 
X  Took  the  straight  blade,  cut  from  the  proud  bull's  head 
^A  locJc,  and  laid  it  where  the  fire  was  red  f 


54  EURIPIDES 

Then,  while  the  young  men  held  the  bull  on  high. 

Slew  it  with  one  clean  gash  ;  and  suddenly 

Turned  on  thy  brother  :  "  Stranger,  every  true 

Thessalian,  so  the  story  goes,  can  hew 

A  bull's  limbs  clean,  and  tame  a  mountain  steed. 

Take  up  the  steel,  and  show  us  if  indeed 

Rumour  speak  true."     Right  swift  Orestes  took 

The  Dorian  blade,  b»c;k  from  his  shoulders  shook 

His  broochW  mantle,  called  on  Pylades 

To  aid  him,  and  waved  back  the  thralls.     With  ease 

Heelwise  he  held  the  bull,  and  with  one  glide 

Bared   the   white   limb;    then   stripped   the   mighty 

hide 
From  oflF  him,  swifter  than  a  runner  runs 
His  furlongs,  and  laid  clean  the  flank.     At  once 
Aegisthus  stooped,  and  lifted  up  with  care 
The  ominous  parts,  and  gazed.     No  lobe  was  there  ; 
But  \0f  strange  caves  of  gall,  and,  darkly  raised. 
The  portal  vein  boded  to  him  that  gazed 
Fell  visitations.     Dark  as  night  his  brow 
Clouded.     Then  spake  Orestes  :  "  Why  art  thou 
Cast  down  so  sudden  ? "     "  Guest,'^  he  cried,  "  there  be 
Treasons  from  whence  I  know  not,  seeking  me. 
Of  all  my  foes,  'tis  Agamemnon's  son  ; 
His  hate  is  on  my  house,  like  war."      "  Have  done  I " 
Orestes  cried  :  "  thou  fear'st  an  exile's  plot, 
Lord  of  a  city  ?     Make  thy  cold  heart  hot 
With  meat. — Ho,  flfmg  me  a  Thessalian  steel  I 
This  Dorian  is  too  light.     I  will  unseal 
The  breast  of  him."     He  took  the  heavier  blade. 
And  clave  the  bone.     And  there  Aegisthus  stayed. 
The  omens  in  his  hand,  dividing  slow 
This  tign  from  that ;  till,  while  his  head  bent  low, 


ELECTRA  55 

Up  with  a  leap  thy  brother  flashed  the  sword. 

Then  down  upon  his  neck,  and  cleft  the  cord 

Of  brain  and  spine.     Shuddering  the  body  stood 

One  instant  in  an  agony  of  blood, 

And    gasped    an(f    fell.     The    henchmen    saw,    and 

straight 
Fkw  to  their  spears,  a  host  of  them  to  set 
Against    those    twain.      But    there    the    twain    did 

stand 
Unfaltering,  each  his  iron  in  his  hand, 
Edge  fronting  edge.     Till  "  Hold,"  Orestes  calls  : 
^"  I  come  not  as  in  wrath  against  these  walls 
And  mine  own  people.     One  man  righteously 
I  have  slain,  who  slew  my  father.     It  is  I, 
[The  wronged  Orestes  !     Hold,  and  smite  me  not, 
Old  housefolk  of  my  father  I  "     When  they  caught 
That  name,  their  lances  fell.     And  one  old  man. 
An  ancient  in  the  house,  drew  nigh  to  scan 
His  fece,  and  knew  him.     Then  with  one  accord 
They  crowned  thy  brother's  temples,  and  outpoured 
Joy  and  loud  songs.     And  hither  now  he  fares 
To  show  the  head,  no  Gorgon,  that  he  bears, 
But  that  Aegisthus  whom  thou  hatest  I     Yea, 
Blood  against  blood,  his  debt  is  paid  this  day. 

[Hi  goes  off  to  meet  the  others — Electra  itandt 
as  though  stupefied. 

Chorus. 

Now,  now  thou  shalt  dance  in  our  dances, 

Beloved,  as  a  fawn  in  the  night  I 
The  wind  is  astir  for  the  glances 

Of  thy  feet ;  thou  art  robed  with  deHght. 


56  EURIPIDES 

He  hath  conquered,  he  comcth  to  free  us 

With  garlands  new-won, 
More  high  than  the  crowns  of  AlpheUs, 

Thine  own  father's  son  : 
Cry,  cry,  for  the  day  that  is  won  I 


Elkctra. 

O  Light  of  the  Sun,  O  chariot  wheels  of  flame, 
O  Earth  and  Night,  dead  Night  without  a  name 
That  held  me  I     Now  mine  eyes  are  raised  to  see, 
And  all  the  doorways  of  my  soul  flung  free. 
Aegisthus  dead  I     My  father's  murderer  dead  1 
What  have  I  still  of  wreathing  for  the  head 
Stored  in  my  chambers  ?     Let  it  come  forth  now 
To  bind  my  brother's  and  my  conqueror's  brow. 

ISome  garlands  are  brought  out  from  the  house  to 
Elkctra. 


Chorus. 

Go,  gather  thy  garlands,  and  lay  them 

As  a  crown  on  his  brow,  many-trcssed. 
But  our  feet  shall  refrain  not  nor  stay  them : 

'Tis  the  joy  that  the  Muses  have  blest. 
For  our  king  is  returned  as  from  prison, 

The  old  king,  to  be  master  again, 
Our  beloved  in  justice  re-risen  : 
With  guile  he  hath  slain  •  .  . 
But  cry,  cry  in  joyance  again  I 

[Then  ente^  from  the  left  Orestes  and  Pyladb*, 
followed  by  some  thralls. 


ELECTRA  57 


Electra. 

O  conqueror,  come  I     The  king  that  trampled  Troy 

Knoweth  his  son  Orestes.     Come  in  joy, 

Brother,  and  take  to  bind  thy  rippling  hair 

My  crowns  I  .  .  .  O  what  arc  crowns,  that  runners 

wear 
For  some  vain  race  ?     But  thou  in  battle  true 
Hast  felled  our  foe  Acgisthus,  him  that  slew 
By  craft  thy  sire  and  mine.  [She  crowns  Orestes. 

And  thou  no  less, 
O  friend  at  need,  O  reared  in  righteousness, 
Take,  Pylades,  this  chaplet  from  my  hand. 
'Twas  half  thy  battle.     And  may  ye  two  stand 
Thus  alway,  victory-crowned,  before  my  face  I 

[She  crowns  Pylades. 

Orestes. 

Electra,  first  as  workers  of  this  grace 

Praise  thou  the  Gods,  and  after,  if  thou  will, 

Praise  also  me,  as  chosen  to  fulfil 

God's   work    and    Fate's.  —  Aye,   'tis    no    more   a 

dream ; 
In  very  deed  I  come  from  slaying  him. 
Thou  hast  the  knowledge  clear,  but  lo,  1  bring 
More  also.     See  himself,  dead  1 

[Attendants  bring  in  the  body  <7/Aegisthos  on  a  bier, 

Wouldst  thou  fling    / 
This  lord  on  the  rotting  earth  for  beasts  to  tear  ? 
Or  up,  where  all  the  vultures  of  the  air 
May  glut  them,  pierce  and  nail  him  for  a  sign 
Far  off  ?     Work  ail  thy  will.     Now  he  is  thine. 


58  EURIPIDES 

Elbctra. 
It  shames  mc ;  yet,  God  knows,  I  hunger  sore— 

Orestes. 

What  wouldst  thou  ?     Speak  ;  the  old  fear  nevermore 
Need  touch  thee. 

Electra, 

To  let  loose  upon  the  dead 
My  hate  !     Perchance  to  rouse  on  mine  own  head 
The  sleeping  hate  of  the  world  i 

Orestes. 

No  man  that  lives 
Shall  scathe  thee  by  one  word. 

Electra. 

Our  city  gives 
Quick  blame ;  and  little  love  have  men  for  me. 

Orestes. 

If  aught  thou  hast  unsaid,  sister,  be  free 
And  speak.     Between  this  man  and  us  no  bar 
Cometh  nor  stint,  but  the  utter  rage  of  war. 

[Shg  goes  and  stands  over  the  body,     A  moments 
silence. 

Ah  me,  what  have  I  ?     What  first  flood  of  hate 
To  loose  upon  thee  ?     What  Ust  curse  to  sate 
My  pain,  or  river  of  wild  words  to  flow 
Bank-high   between  ?  .  .  .  Nothing  ?  .  .  .  And   yet 


ELECTRA  59 

There  hatii  not  passed  one  sun,  but  through  the  long 
Cold  dawns,  over  and  over,  like  a  song, 
I  have  said  them — words  held  back,  O,  some  day  yet 
To  flash  into  thy  face,  would  but  the  fret 
Of  ancient  fear  fall  loose  and  let  me  free. 
And  free  I  am,  now  ;  and  can  pay  to  thee 
At  last  the  weary  debt, 
/  Oh,  thou  didst  kill 

^  My  soul  within.     Who  wrought  thee  any  ill, 
That  thou  shouldst  make  me  fatherless  ?     Aye,  me 
And  this  my  brother,  loveless,  solitary  ? 
'Twas  thou,  didst  bend  my  mother  to  her  shame : 
Thy  weak  hand  murdered  him  who  led  to  fame 
The  hosts  of  Hellas — thou,  that  never  crossed 
O'erscas  to  Troy  I  .  .  .  God  help  thee,  wast  thou  lost 
In  blindness,  long  ago,  dreaming,  some-wise. 
She  would  be  true  with  thee,  whose  sin  and  lies 
Thyself  had  tasted  in  my  father's  place  ?  - 
And  then,  that  thou  wert  happy,  when  thy  days 
Were  all  one  pain  ?     Thou  knewest  ceaselessly 
Her  kiss  a  thing  unclean,  and  she  knew  thee 
*  A  lord  so  little  true,  so  dearly  won  I 
So  lost  ye  both,  being  in  falseness  one, 
What  fortune  else  had  granted ;  she  thy  curse,       < 
Who  marred  thee  as  she  loved  thee,  and  thou  hers  ,  •  • 
And  on  thy  ways  thou  heardst  men  whispering, 
"  Lo,  the  Queen's  husband  yonder  " — not  "  the  King.** 

And  then  the  lie  of  lies  that  dimmed  thy  brow. 
Vaunting  that  by  thy  gold,  thy  chattels,  Thou 
Wert  Something ;  which  themselves  are  nothingness. 
Shadows,  to  clasp  a  moment  ere  they  cease. 
The  thing  thou  art,  and  not  the  things  thou  hast, 
Abideth,  yea,  and  bindeth  to  the  last 


6o  EURIPIDES 

Thy  burden  on  thee  :  while  all  else,  ill-won 
y  And  sin-companioned^  like  a  flc^wer^'cr blown, 
'      Flics  on  the  wind  away. 

Or  didst  thou  find 
In    women  .  .  .  Women  ?  .  .  .  Nay,  peace,  peace  I 

The  blind 
Could  read  thee.     Cruel  wast  thou  in  thine  hour, 
Lord  of  a  great  king's  house,  and  like  a  tower 
Firm  in  thy  beauty^ 

[Starting  hack  with  a  look  of  loathing, 
^  Ah,  that  girl-like  face  I 

^  God  grant,  not  that,  not  that,  but  some  plain  grace 
Of  manhood  to  the  man  who  brings  me  love : 
A  father  of  straight  children,  that  shall  move 
Swift  on  the  wings  of  War. 

So,  get  thee  gone  I 
Naught  knowing  how  the  great  years,  rolling  on, 
Have  laid  thee  bare,  and  thy  long  debt  full  paid. 

O  vaunt  not,  if  one  step  be  proudly  made 
In  evil,  that  all  Justice  is  o'ercast : 
Vaunt  not,  ye  men  of  sin,  ere  at  the  last 
The  thin-drawn  marge  before  you  glimmercth 
Close,  and  the  goal  that  wheels  'twixt  life  and  death. 

Leader. 

Justice  is  mighty.     Passing  dark  hath  been 
His  sin  :  and  dark  the  payment  of  his  sin. 

Elkctra  [with  a  weary  sigh^  turning  from  tht  body). 

Ah  me  I    Go  some  of  you,  bear  him  from  sight, 
That  when  my  mother  come,  her  eyes  may  light 
On  nothing,  nothing,  till  she  know  the  sword  .  .  . 
\Tht  body  is  bornt  into  tht  hut,    Pyladss  goi$  with  it. 


/ 


ELECTRA  6i 

Orestes  {looking  along  the  road). 

Stay,  'tis  a  new  thing  !     We  have  still  a  word 
To  speak  .  .  • 

Electra, 

What  ?     Not  a  rescue  from  the  town 
Thou  seSst  ? 

Orestes. 

'Tis  tnj  mother  comes  :  my  own 
Mother,  that  bare  me.  [He  takes  off  his  crnun, 

Elkctra  {springing,  as  it  were,  to  life  again,  and 
moving  where  she  can  see  the  road). 

Straight  into  the  snare  I 
Aye,  there  she  cometh. — Welcome  in  thy  rare 
Chariot  I     All  welcome  in  thy  brave  array  I 

Orestes. 

V    What  would  we  with  our  mother  ?     Didst  thou  say       \ 
Kill  her  ? 

Electra  {turning  on  him). 

What  ?     Is  it  pity  ?     Dost  thou  fear 
To  see  thy  mother's  shape  ? 

Orestes. 

'Twas  she  that  bare 
My  body  into  life.     She  gave  me  suck. 
How  can  I  strike  her  P 


6a  EURIPIDES 

Electra. 

Strike  her  as  she  struck 
Our  father  I 

Orestes  [to  himself^  brooding), 

1 1  \  Phoebus,  God,  was  all  thy  mind 

/   Turned  unto  darkness  ? 

Electra. 

If  thy  God  be  blind, 
Shalt  thou  have  light  ? 

Orestes  {at  before), 

/Thou,  thou,  didst  bid  me  kill 
.My  mother  :  which  is  sin. 

Electra. 

How  brings  it  ill 
To  thee,  to  raise  our  ^ther  from  the  dust  ? 

Orestes. 

I  was  a  clean  man  once.     Shall  I  be  thrust 
From  men's  sight,  l^Jsitted  with  her  blood  ? 

Electra. 

Thyjj^ 
''Is  black  as  death  if  him  thou  succour  not  I 

Orestis. 

Who  shall  do  judgment  on  me,  when  she  dies } 


ELECTRA  63 

Elsctra. 

Who  shall  do  judgment,  if  thy  father  lies 
Forgotten  ? 

Orestes  (turning  suddenly  to  Electra). 

Stay  1     How  if  some  fiend  of  Hell, 
Hid  in  God's  likeness,  spake  that  oracle  ? 

Electra. 
In  God's  own  house  ?     I  trow  not, 

Orestes. 

And  I  trow 
It  was  an  evil  charge  I  [Hi  moves  away  from  her^ 

Electra  {almost  despairing). 
To  fail  me  now  I 
To  fail  me  now  I     A  coward  I  — O  brother,  no  I 

Orestes. 
What  shall  it  be,  then  ?     The  same  stealthy  blow  .  .  . 

Electra. 

That  slew  our  ^therl     Courage  I  thou  hast  slain 
Aegisthus. 

Orestes. 

Aye.     So  be  it. — I  have  ta'cn 
A  path  of  many  terrors  :  and  shall  do 
S^  Deeds  horrible.     'Tis  God  will  have  it  so.  •  •  • 
Is  this  the  joy  of  battle,  or  wild  woe  ? 

\He  goes  into  the  house* 


\ 
\ 


64  EURIPIDES 


,  Lkader. 

^  O  Queen  o'er  Argos  thronid  high, 

O  Woman,  sister  of  the  twain, 

God's  Horsemen,  stars  without  a  stain. 
Whose  home  is  in  the  deathless  sky. 

Whose  glory  in  the  sea's  wild  pain. 
Toiling  to  succour  men  that  die  : 
Long  years  above  us  hast  thou  been, 
God-like  for  gold  and  marvelled  power : 

Ah,  well  may  mortal  eyes  this  hour 
Observe  thy  state  :  All  hail,  O  Queen  ! 

Enter  from  the  right  Clytkmnestra  on  a  chariot^ 
accompanied  by  richly  dreaed  Handmaidens. 

Clytemnestra. 

Down  from  the  wain,  ye  dames  of  Troy,  and  hold 
Mine  arm  as  I  dismount.  ... 

[^Answering  Electra's  thought. 
The  spoils  and  gold 
Of  Ilion  I  have  sent  out  of  my  hall 
To  many  shrines.     These  bondwomen  are  all 
I  keep  in   mine  own   house  .   .   .  Deemst  thou  the 

cost 
Too  rich  to  pay  me  for  the  child  I  lost — 
Fair  though  they  be  ? 

Electra. 

Nay,  Mother,  here  am  I 
Bond  likewise,  yea,  and  homeless,  to  hold  high 
Thy  royal  arm ! 


ELECTRA 


Clytemnestra. 

Child,  the  war-slaves  are  here  ) 
Fhou  needst  not  toil. 

Electra. 

What  was  it  but  the  spear 
Of  war,  drove  me  forth  too  ?     Mine  enemies 
Have  sacked  my  father's  house,  and,  even  as  these, 
Captives  and  fatherless,  made  me  their  prey. 


Clytemnestra. 

It  was  thy  father  cast  his  child  away, 

A  child  he  might   have  loved  1  .  •  .  Shall    I    speak 

out? 
(Controlling  herself)  Nay ;    when   a   woman   once   is 

caught  about 
With  evil  fame,  there  riseth  in  her  tongue 
A  bitter  spirit — wrong,  I  know  !     Yet,  wrong 
Or  right,  I  charge  ye  look  on  the  deeds  done  ;    ' 
And  if  ye  needs  must  hate,  when  all  is  known, 
Hate  on  1     What  profits  loathing  ere  ye  know  i  ' 

My  father  gave  me  to  be  his.     'Tis  so. 
But  was  it  his  to  kill  me,  or  to  kill 
The  babes  I  bore  ?     Vet,  lo,  he  tricked  my  will 
With  fables  of  Achilles'  love  :  he  bore 
To  Aulis  and  the  dark  ship-clutching  shore, 
He  held  above  the  altar-flame,  and  smote. 
Cool  as  one  reaping,  through  the  strained  throat, 
My  white  Iphigenia.  .  .  .  Had  it  been 
To  save  some  falling  city,  Icaguered  in 

9 


66  EURIPIDES 

Witn  focmen  ;  to  prop  up  ouj;  castle  towers, 
And  rescue  other  children  that  were  ours, 
Giving  one  life  for  many,  by  God's  laws 
I  had  forgiven  all  I     Not  so.     Because 
Helen  was  wanton,  and  her  master  knew 
No  curb  for  her  :  for  that,  for  that,  he  slew 
My  daughter  ! — Even  then,  with  all  my  wrong, 
No  wild  beast  yet  was  in  me.     Nay,  for  long, 

0    I  never  would  have  killed  him.     But  he  came, 
At  last,  bringing  that  damsel,  with  the  flame 
Of  God  about  her,  mad  and  knowing  all : 
And  set  her  in  my  room ;  and  in  one  wall 
Would  hold  two  queens  I— O  wild  arc  woman^s  eyes 
And  hot  her  heart     I  say  not  otherwise. 
But,  being  thus  wild,  if  then  her  master  stray 
To  love  far  off,  and  cast  his  own  away, 
Shall  not  her  will  break  prison  too,  and  wend 
Somewhere  to  win  some  other  for  a  friend  i 
And  then  on  us  the  world's  curse  waxes  strong 
In  righteousness  1     The  lords  of  all  the  wrong 

^  Must  hear  no  curse  ! — I  slew  him.     I  trod  then 
The  only  road  :  which  led  me  to  the  men 
He  hatpd.     Of  the  friends  of  Argos  whom 
Dursi  I  have  sought,  to  aid  me  to  the  doorr^ 
L  craved  ? — Speak  if  thou  wouldst,  and  fear  not  mc, 
If  yet  thou  deemst  him  slain  unrighteously. 

Leader. 

Thy  words  be  just,  yet  shame  their  justice  brings  | 
A  woman  true  of  heart  should  bear  all  things 
From  him  she  loves.     And  she  who  feels  it  not, 
I  cannot  reason  of  her,  nor  speak  aught. 


ELECTRA  6j 

Elkctra. 
Remember,  mother,  thy  last  word  of  grace, 
Bidding  me  speak,  and  fear  not,  to  thy  face. 

Clytbmnestra. 
So  said  I  truly,  child,  and  so  say  still. 

Elkctra. 
Wilt  softly  hear,  and  after  work  me  ill  ? 

Clytkmnkstra, 
Not  so,  not  so.     I  will  but  pleasure  thee. 

Electra, 

'     I  answer  then.     And,  mother,  this  shall  be 
My  prayer  of  opening,  where  hangs  the  whole : 
Would  God  jhat  He  had  mad^  of  soul  I  ^  VVa»   ^ 

Helen  and  thou — O,  face  and  form  were  fair,  q^^   j  vv 

Meet  for  men's  praise  ;  but  sisters  twain  ye  were,     ^    Jit*** 
Both  things  of  naught,  a  stain  on  Castor's  star.  \         ^J^ 

And  Helen  slew  her  honour,  borne  afar  .-^^ 

In  wilful  ravishment :  but  thou  didst  slay 
The  highest  man  of  the  world.     And  now  wilt  say 
'Twas  wrought  in  justice  for  thy  child  laid  low 
At  Aulis  r  .      .  Ah,  who  knows  thee  as  I  know  ?  --^ 
Thou,  thou,  who  long  ere  aught  of  ill  was  done 
Thy  child,  when  Agamemnon  scarce  was  gone, 
Sate  at  the  looking-glass,  and  tress  by  tress 
Didst  comb  the  twined  gold  in  loneliness. 

""^^^^When  any  wife,  her  lord  being  far  away, 
Toils  to  be  fair,  O  blot  her  out  that  day 


/iTThy 


68  EURIPIDES 

As  false  within  I     What  would  she  with  a  check 
So  bright  in  strange  men's  eyes,  unless  she  seek 
Some  treason  ?     None  but  I,  thy  child,  could  so 
Watch  thee  in  Hellas  :  none  but  I  could  know 
Thy  face  of  gladness  when  our  enemies 
Were  strong,  and  the  swift  cloud  upon  thine  eyes 
If  Troy  seemed  falling,  all  thy  soul  keen-set 
Praying  that  h  e  might  come  no  more  1  ,  .  .  And  yet 
It  was  so  easy  to  be  truc,^     A  king 
Was  thine,  not  feebler,  not  in  anything 
Below  Aegisthus  ;  one  whom  Hellas  chose 
For  chief  beyond  all  kings.     Aye,  and  God  knows. 
How  sweet  a  name  in  Greece,  after  the  sin 
sister  wrought,  lay  in  thy  ways  to  win. 
Ill  deeds  make  fair  ones  shine,  and  turn  thereto 
Men's  eyes. — Enough  :  but  say  he  wronged  thee  ;  slew 
By  craft  thy  child  : — what  wrong  had  I  done,  what 
The  babe  Orestes  ?     Why  didst  render  not 
Back  unto  us,  the  children  of  the  dead. 
Our  father's  portion  ?     Must  thou  heap  thy  bed 
With  gold  of  murdered  men,  to  buy  to  thee 
Thy  strange  man's  arms  ?     Justice  I     Why  is  not  he 
Who  cast  Orestes  out,  cast  out  again  ? 
Not  slain  for  me  whom  doubly  he  hath  slain, 
In  living  death,  more  bitter  than  of  old 
^    My  sister's  ?     Nay,  when  all  the  tale  is  told 
U\  Of  blood  for  blood,  what  murder  shall  we  make, 
^  I  and  Orestes,  for  our  father's  sake  ? 

Clytemnestra. 
Aye,  child  ;  I  know  thy  heart,  from  long  ago. 
?  Thou  hast  alway  loved  him  best.     *Tis  oft-time  so : 
One  is  her  father's  daughter,  and  one  hot 


ELECTRA  69 

To  bear  her  mother's  part.     I  blame  thee  not  .  •  . 
U^  Yet  think  not  I  am  happy,  child  ;  nor  flown 
-^  ^   With  pride  now,  in  the  deeds  my  hand  hath  done  .  .  , 
[Seeing  Electra  unsympathetic^  she  checks  herself. 
But  thou  art  all  untended,  comfortless 
Of  body  and  wild  of  raiment ;  and  thy  stress 
Of  travail  scarce  yet  ended  !  .  .  .  Woe  is  mc  I 
'Tis  all  as  I  have  willed  it.     Bitterly 
I  wrought  against  him,  to  the  last  blind  deep 
Of  bitterness.  •  .  •  Woe's  mc  I 

Electra. 

Fair  days  to  weep, 
When  help  is  not  1     Or  stay  :  though  he  lie  cold 
Long  since,  there  lives  another  of  thy  fold 
Far  off;  there  might  be  pity  for  thy  son  ? 

Clytemnestra. 
*  I  dare  not  I  .  .  .  Yes,  I  fear  him.     Tis  mine  own 
'    Life,  and  not  his,  comes  first.     And  rumour  saith 
His  heart  yet  burneth  for  his  father's  death. 

Electra. 

Why  dost  thou  keep  thine  husband  ever  hot 
Against  me  ? 

Clytemnestra. 
'Tis  his  mood.     And  thou  art  not 
So  gentle,  child  I 

Electra. 

My  spirit  is  too  sore  I 
Howbeit,  from  this  day  I  will  no  more 
Hate  him. 


70  EURIPIDES 

Clytkmnestra  {with  a  flash  of  hope). 

O  daughter  I — Then,  indeed,  shall  he, 
I  promise,  never  more  be  harsh  to  thee  I 

Electra. 
He  h'eth  in  my  house,  as  'twere  his  own. 
'Tis  that  hath  made  him  proud. 

Clytemnsstra. 

Nay,  art  thou  flown 
To  strife  again  so  quick,  child  ? 

Electra. 

Well ;  I  say 
No  more ;  long  have  I  feared  him,  and  alway 
Shall  fear  him,  even  as  now  ! 

Clytemnsstra. 

Nay,  daughter,  peace  I 
It  bringeth  little  profit,  speech  like  this  •  •  • 
Why  didst  thou  call  me  hither  ? 

Electra. 

It  reached  thce« 
My  word  that  a  man-child  is  born  to  me  ? 
Do  thou  make  oflfering  for  me — for  the  rite 
I  know  not — as  is  meet  on  the  tenth  nighc 
I  cannot ;  I  have  borne  no  child  till  now. 

Clytemnestra. 
Who  tended  thcc  ?     Tis  she  should  make  the  vow. 


ELECTRA  71 

Electra. 
None  tended  mc.     Alone  I  bare  my  child. 

Clytkmnestra 

What,  is  thy  cot  so  friendless  ?     And  this  wild 
So  far  from  aid  ? 

Electra. 

Who  seeks  for  friendship  sake 
A  beggar's  house  ? 

Clytemnestra. 

I  will  go  in,  and  make 
•  Due  worship  for  thy  child,  the  Pcace-bringer. 
To  all  thy  need  I  would  be  minister. 
Then  to  my  lord,  where  by  the  meadow  side 
He  prays  the  woodland  nymphs. 

Yc  handmaids,  guide 
My  chariot  to  the  stall,  and  when  ye  guess 
The  rite  draws  near  its  end,  in  readiness 
Be  here  again.     Then  to  my  lord  !  .  .  •  I  owe 
My  lord  this  gladness,  too. 

[Thi  Attendants  depart ;    Clytemnestra,  .eft 
alone^  proceeds  to  enter  the  house, 

Electra. 

Welcome  belois* 
My  narrow  roof!     But  have  a  care  withal, 
A  grime  of  smoke  lies  deep  upon  the  wall. 
Soil  not  thy  robe  I  .  •  • 


72  EURIPIDES 

Not  far  now  shall  it  be. 
The  sacrifice  God  asks  of  me  and  thee. 
The  bread  of  Death  is  broken,  and  the  knife 
Lifted  again  that  drank  the  Wild  Bull's  life  : 
And  on  his  breast  .  .  .  Ha,  Mother,  hast  slept  well 
^  Aforetime  ?     Thou  shalt  lie  with  him  in  Hell. 
"^  That  grace  I  give  to  cheer  thee  on  thy  road  ; 
Give  thou  to  me— ^peace  from  my  father's  blood  I 

[She  follows  her  mother  into  the  house. 

Chorus. 

Lo,  the  returns  of  wrong. 

The  wind  as  a  changed  thing 
Whispereth  overhead 
Of  one  that  of  old  lay  dead 
In  the  water  lapping  long  : 

My  King,  O  my  King  I 

A  cry  in  the  rafters  then 

Rang,  and  the  marble  dome  : 

**  Mercy  of  God,  not  thou, 

**  Woman  I     To  slay  me  now, 

•*  After  the  harvests  ten 

*•  Now,  at  the  last,  come  home  I  * 


O  Fate  shall  turn  as  the  tide, 
Turn,  with  a  doom  of  tears 

For  the  flying  heart  too  fond  ; 

A  doom  for  the  broken  bond. 

She  hailed  him  there  in  his  pride, 
Home  from  the  perilous  years, 


ELECTRA      •  73 

In  the  heart  of  his  walled  lands. 
In  the  Giants'  cloud-capt  ring  $ 

Herself,  none  other,  laid 

The  hone  to  the  axc*s  blade ; 

She  lifted  it  in  her  hands, 

The  woman,  and  slew  her  king. 

Woe  upon  spouse  and  spouse, 

Whatso  of  evil  sway 
Held  her  in  that  distress  ! 
Even  as  a  lioness 
Breaketh  the  woodland  boughs 

Starving,  she  wrought  her  way. 

Voice  of  Clytemnesira. 
O  Children,  Children  ;  in  the  name  of  God, 
Slay  not  your  mother  I 

A  Woman. 

Did  ye  hear  a  cry 
Under  the  rafters  ? 

Another. 
I  weep  too,  yea,  I ; 
Down  on  the  mother's  heart  the  child  hath  trod  ! 

[/i  death-cry  from  within. 

Another. 
"^God  bringeth  Justice  in  his  own  slow  tide. 

Aye,  cruel  is  thy  doom  ;  but  thy  deeds  done 
Evil,  thou  piteous  woman,  and  on  one 
Whose  sleep  was  by  thy  side  I 

[Thi  door  bunts  eperiy  and  Orestbs  and 
Elbctra  come  forth  in  disorder.  Attends 
ants  bring  out  the  bodies  tf/CLYTEMNESTRil 
and  Akgisthus. 


74  EURIPIDES 


]^/ 


icf^  Leader. 

Lo,  yonder,  in  their  mother's  new-spilt  gore 
Red-garmented  and  ghastly,  from  the  door 
They  reel.  .  .  .  O  horrible  !     Was  it  agony 
Like  this,  she  boded  in  her  last  wild  cry  ? 
There  lives  no  seed  of  man  calamitous, 
Nor  hath  lived,  like  this  seed  of  Tantalus. 

Orestes. 

O  Dark  of  the  Earth,  O  God, 

Thou  to  whom  all  is  plain ; 
Look  on  my  sin,  my  blood. 

This  horror  of  dead  things  twain  : 
Gathered  as  one  they  lie 
Slain  ;  and  the  slayer  was  I, 
**        I,  to  pay  for  my  pain  I 

Electra. 

Let  tear  rain  upon  tear. 

Brother  :  but  mine  is  the  blame. 

A  fire  stood  over  her, 

And  out  of  the  fire  I  came, 

I,  in  my  misery.  .  .  • 

And  I  was  the  child  at  her  knee. 
^      '  Mother '  I  named  her  name. 

Chorus. 

Alas  for  Fate,  for  the  Fate  of  thee, 
O  Mother,  Mother  of  Misery  : 
And  Misery,  lo,  hath  turned  again, 


ELECTRA  75 

To  slay  thee,  Misery  and  more. 
Even  in  the  fruit  thy  body  bore. 
Yet  hast  thou  Justice,  Justice  plain. 
For  a  sire's  blood  spilt  of  yore  I 

Orestes. 
Apollo,  alas  for  the  hymn 

Thou  sangest,  as  hope  in  mine  car  t 
The  Song  was  of  Justice  dim, 

But  the  Deed  is  anguish  clear ; 
And  the  Gift,  long  nights  of  fear, 

Of  blood  and  of  wandering. 

Where  cometh  no  Greek  thing, 
Nor  sight,  nor  sound  on  the  air. 
Yea,  and  beyond,  beyond. 

Roaming — what  rest  is  there  ? 
Who  shall  break  bread  with  me  ? 
Who,  that  is  clean,  shall  see 
And  hate  not  the  blood-red  hand, 

His  mother^s  murderer  ? 

Elkctra. 
And  I  ?     What  clime  shall  hold 

My  evil,  or  roof  it  above  ? 
I  cried  for  dancing  of  old,  / 

I  cried  in  my  heart  for  love : 
What  dancing  waiteth  me  now  ? 
What  love  that  shall  kiss  my  brow 

I^lor  blench  at  the  brand  thereof? 

Chorus. 
Back,  back,  in  the  wind  and  rain 
Thy  driven  spirit  whcclcth  again. 


76  EURIPIDES 

Now  is  thine  heart  made  clean  within 
That  was  dark  of  old  and  murder-fraught. 
But,  lo,  thy  brother ;  what  hast  thou  wrought  .  .  . 
Yea,  though  I  love  thee  .  .  .  what  woe,  what  sin, 
On  him,  who  willed  it  not  1 

Orestes. 
Saw'st  thou  her  raiment  there. 
Sister,  there  in  the  blood  ? 
She  drew  it  back  as  she  stood, 
She  opened  her  bosom  bare. 

She  bent  her  knees  to  the  earth. 
The  knees  that  bent  in  my  birth  .  .  . 
And  I  .  •  .  Oh,  her  hair,  her  hair  .  .  , 

[He  breaks  into  inarticulate  wesbit^ 

Chorus. 
V   Oh,  thou  didst  walk  in  agony. 
Hearing  thy  mother's  cry,  the  cry 
Of  wordless  wailing,  well  know  L 

Electra. 
She  stretched  her  hand  to  my  cheek, 

^And  there  brake  from  her  lips  a  moan  ; 
*  Mercy,  my  child,  my  own  I  * 
Her  hand  clung  to  my  cheek ; 
Clung,  and  my  arm  was  weak ; 
And  the  sword  fell  and  was  gone, 

Chorus. 
Unhappy  woman,  could  thine  eye 
Look  on  the  blood,  and  see  her  lie. 
Thy  mother,  where  she  turned  to  die  ? 


ELECTRA  77 

Orestes. 

I  lifted  over  mine  eyes 

My  mantle  :  blinded  I  smote, 
As  one  smiteth  a  sacrifice  ; 

And  the  sword  found  her  throat. 

Electra. 
I  gave  thee  the  sign  and  the  word  ; 
I  touched  with  mine  hand  thy  sword. 

Leader. 
Dire  is  the  grief  yc  have  wrought. 

Orestes. 
Sister,  touch  her  again  : 
Oh,  veil  the  body  of  her ; 
Shed  on  her  raiment  fair, 
And  close  that  death-red  stain. 

— Mother!     And  didst  thou  bear, 
Bear  in  thy  bitter  pain. 

To  life,  thy  murderer  ? 
[The  two  kneel  over  the  body  of  Clytemnestra, 
and  cover  her  with  raiment, 

Electra. 

On  her  that  I  loved  of  yore. 

Robe  upon  robe  I  cast : 
On  her  that  I  hated  sore. 

Chorus. 
O  House  thut  hath  hated  sore, 
Behold  thy  peace  at  the  last  1 


<i> 


EURIPIDES 


Lkadbr. 


Ha,  sec :  above  the  roof- tree  high 

There  shineth  ...  Is  some  spirit  there 
Of  earth  or  heaven  ?     That  thin  air 
"^  Was  never  trod  by  things  that  die  I 

What  bodes  it  now  that  forth  they  fare, 
To  men  revealW  visibly  ? 

[There  appears  in  the  air  a  vision  ofCAsrrGK  and 
PoLYDKUCKS.  The  mortals  kneel  §r  veil 
their  faces,  ' 

Castor. 

Thou  Agamemnon's -Son,  give  ear  1     'Tis  we, 
Castor  and  Polydeuces,  call  to  thee, 
God's  Horsemen  and  thy  mother's  brethren  twain. 
An  Argive  ship,  spent  with  the  toiling  main, 
We  bore  but  now  to  peace,  and,  here  withal 
Being  come,  have  seen  thy  mother's  bloody  fall, 
Our  sister's.     Righteous  is  her  doom  this  day, 
But  not  thy  deed.      And  Phoebus,   Phoebus   .    . 

Nay; 
He  is  my  lord ;  therefore  I  hold  my  peace. 
Yet  though  in  light  he  dwell,  no  light  was  this 
He  showed  to  thee,  but  darkness  I     Which  do  thou 
Endure,  as  man  must,  chafing  npt.     And  now 
Fare  forth  where  Zeus  and  Fate  have  laid  thy  life. 

The  maid  Electra  thou  shalt  give  for  wife 
To  Pylades  j  then  turn  thy  head  and  flee 
from  Argos'  land.     'Tis  never  more  for  thee 
To  tread  this  earth  where  thy  dead  mother  lies. 
*^  And,  lo,  in  the  air  her  Spirits,  bloodhound  eyes, 


ELECTRA  79 

Most  horrible  yet  Godlike,  hard  at  heel 
Following  shall  scourge  thee  as  a  burning  wheel, 
Speed-maddened.     Seek  thou  straight  Athena's  land. 
And  round  her  awfiil  image  clasp  thine  hand, 
Praying  :  and  she  will  fence  them  back,  though  hot 
With  flickering  serpents,  that  they  touch  thee  not. 
Holding  above  thy  brow  her  gorgon  shield. 

There  is  a  hill  in  Athens,  Ares'  field. 
Where  first  for  that  first  death  by  Ares  done 
On  Halirrhothius,  Poseidon's  son. 
Who    wronged    his    daughter,    the    great    Gods    of 
.         yore 

r  Held  judgment :  and  true  judgments  evermore 
1- Flow  from  that  Hill,  trusted  of  man  and  God. 
There  shalt  thou  stand  arraigned  of  this  blood  ; 
And  of  those  judges  half  shall  lay  on  thee 
Death,  and  half  pardon ;  so  shalt  thou  go  free. 
For  Phoebus  in  that  hour,  who  bade  thee  shed 
Thy  mother's  blood,  shall  take  on  his  own  head 
The  stain  thereof.     And  ever  from  that  strife 
The  law  shall  hold,  that  when,  for  death  or  life 
Of  one  pursued,  men's  voices  equal  stand, 
"^Then  Mercy  conquercth, — But  for  thee,  the  band 
Of  Spirits  dread,  down,  down,  in  very  wrath. 
Shall  sink  beside  that  Hill,  making  their  path 
Through  a  dim  chasm,  the  which  shall  aye  be  trod 
By  reverent  feet,  where  men  may  speak  with  God. 
But  thou  forgotten  and  far  off  shalt  dwell. 
By  great  Alphetls'  waters,  in  a  dell 
Of  Arcady,  where  that  gray  Wolf-God's  wall 
Stands  holy.     And  thy  dwelling  men  shall  call 
Orestes"  Town.     So  much  to  thee  be  spoke. 
But  this  dead  man,  Aegisthus,  all  the  folk 


8o  EURIPIDES 

Shall  bear  to  burial  in  a  high  green  grave 
v^Of  Argos.     For  thy  mother,  she  shall  have 

^"JHcr  tomb  from  Menelaus,  who  hath  come 
This  day,  at  last,  to  Argos,  bearing  home 
Helen.     From  Egypt  comes  she,  and  the  hall 
Of  Proteus,  and  in  Troy  hath  ne'er  at  all 
Set  foot.     'Twas  but  a  wraith  of  Helen,  sent 
By  Zeus,  to  make  much  wrath  and  ravishment. 

So  forth  for  home,  bearing  the  virgin  bride, 
Let  Pylades  make  speed,  and  lead  beside 
Thy  once-named  brother,  and  with  golden  store 
Stabllsh  his  house  far  off  on  Phocis'  shore. 

Up,  gird  thee  now  to  the  steep  Isthmian  way, 
Seeking  Athena's  blessed  rock ;  one  day, 

•    Thy  doom  of  blood  fulfilled  and  this  long  stress 
Of  penance  past,  thou  shalt  have  happiness. 

Leader  {looking  up). 

Is  it  for  us,  O  Seed  of  Zeus, 

To  speak  and  hear  your  words  again  ? 
Castor.  Speak  :  of  this  blood  ye  bear  no  stain. 
Electra.  I  also,  sons  of  Tyndareus, 

My  kinsmen  ;  may  my  word  be  said  ? 
/     Castor.        Speak  :  on  Apollo's  head  we  lay 
The  bloody  doings  of  this  day. 
Leader.  Ye  Gods,  ye  brethren  of  the  deadj 

Why  held  ye  not  the  deathly  herd 
Of  Kdres  back  from  off  this  home? 
Castor,       There  came  but  that  which  needs  must 
come 
By  ancient  Fate  and  that  dark  word 


ELECTRA 


8i 


That  rang  from  Phoebus  in  his  mood. 
Elkctra.         And  what  should  Phoebus  seek  with  me, 
Or  all  God's  oracles  that  be, 
That  I  must  bear  my  mother's  blood  ? 

Castor.        Thy  hand  was  as  thy  brother's  hand, 

Thy  doom  shall  be  as  his.     One  stain. 
From  dim  forefathers  on  the  twain 
Lighting,  hath  sapped  your  hearts  as  sand. 

Orestes       After  so  long,  sister,  to  sec 

{whohasneyer      And  hold  thee,  and  then  part,  then  part, 

LL/,  nor  Sy  *11  t^2.t  chained  thee  to  my  heart 

spoken  to  the    Forsaken,  and  forsaking  thee  1 
Gods). 

Castor.       Husband  and  house  arc  hers.     She  bears 
No  bitter  judgment,  save  to  go 
Exiled  from  Argos. 

Electra.  And  what  woe, 

What  tears  arc  like  an  exile's  tears  ? 


Orestes.      Exiled  and  more  am  I ;  impure, 

A  murderer  in  a  stranger's  hand ! 
Castor.  ,  .       Fear  not.    There  dwells  in  Pallas'  land 
'    Ail  holiness.     Till  then  endure  ! 

[Orestes  and  Electra  embrace. 


Orestes.      Aye,  closer  ;  clasp  my  body  well, 

And  let  thy  sorrow  loose,  and  shed. 
As  o'er  the  grave  of  one  new  dead. 
Dead  evermore,  thy  last  farewell  I 

[A  sound  of  weepings 


82  EURIPIDES 

Castor.    Alas,  what  would  jc  ?     For  that  cry 
Ourselves  and  all  the  sons  of  heaven 
Have  pity.     Yea,  our  peace  is  riven 
By  the  strange  pain  of  these  that  die. 

Orestes.  No  more  to  see  thee  I     Electra.    Nor  thy 
breath 
Be  near  my  face !      Orestes.  Ah,  so  it 
ends. 
Electra.      Farewell,  dear  Argos.     All  ye  friends, 

Farewell  1    Orestes.  O  faithfijl  unto  death, 

Thou  goest  ?     EiJBCTRA.  Aye,  I  pass  from 
you. 
Soft-eyed  at  last.     Qrestes.  Go,  Pylades, 
And  God  go  with  you  !     Wed  in  peace 
My  tall  Electra,  and  be  true. 

[Electra  and  Pylades  depart  t§  the  left. 

Castor. 
Their  troth  shall  fill  their  hearts. — But  on  : 
Dread  feet  are  near  thee,  hounds  of  prey, 
Snake-handed,  midnight-visaged,  yea, 
And  bitter  pains  their  fruit  1     Begone  I 

[Qejstbs  depams  to  the  right* 

But  hark,  the  Ur  Sicilian  sea 

Calls,  and  a  noise  of  men  and  ships 
That  labour  sunken  to  the  lips 

In  bitter  billows  ;  forth  go  we. 

Through  the  long  leagues  of  fiery  blue, 
With  saving  ;  not  to  souls  unshriven  \ 
But  whoso  in  his  life  hath  striven 

To  love  things  holy  and  be  true, 


ELECTRA  S3 

Through  toil  and  storm  wc  guard  him ;  wc 
Save,  and  he  shall  not  die  ! — Therefore, 
^-5>0  praise  the  lying  man  no  more, 
Nor  with  oath-breakers  sail  the  sea : 
Farewell,  ye  walkers  on  thSshorc 
Of  deatinl     A  God  hath  counselled  yc. 

[Castor  and  Polydeuces  disappear. 

Chorus. 

Farewell,  farewell  1 — But  he  who  can  so  fare, 
And  stumbleth  not  on  mischief  anywhere, 
Blessed  on  earth  is  he  1 


NOTES  TO   THE  ELECTRA 

The   chief    characters   in   the    play   belong   to   one 
^unily,  as  is  shown  by  the  two  genealogies : — 


Atreus 

I 


I 

Agamemnon 

(«=Clytemnestra) 

I 


Tantalus 
Pelops 


Menelaus 
(  =  Helen) 


i 

Thyejrtes 


Aegisthus 
(■*Clytemnestra) 


!phigenia        Electra        Orestes 

(Also,  a  sister  of  Agamemnon,  name  variously  given, 
married  Strophios,  and  was  the  mother  of  Pylades.) 


11. 


Clytemnestra 


Tyndareus  =  Leda  =  Zeus 

I       I 

I 


Castor 


I  I 

Polydeuces        Helen 


P.  I,  1.  10,  Son  of  his  father's  foe.] — Both  foe  and 
brother.  Atreus  and  Thyestes  became  enemies  after 
the  theft  of  the  Golden  Lamb.     See  pp.  47  flF. 

P.  2,  1.  34,  Must  wed  with  me.] — In  Aeschylus 
and  Sophocles  Electra  is  unmarried.  This  story  of 
her  peasant  husband  is  found  only  in  Euripides,  but  is 


86  EURIPIDES 

not  likely  to  have  been  wantonly  invented  by  him. 
It  was  no  doubt  an  existing  legend — an  cjp  \0709,  to 
use  the  phrase  attributed  to  Euripides  in  the  Frogs  (1. 
1052).  He  may  have  chosen  to  adopt  it  for  several 
reasons.  First,  to  marry  Electra  to  a  peasant  was  a 
likely  step  for  Acgisthus  to  take,  since  any  child  born 
to  her  afterwards  would  bear  a  stigma,  calculated  to 
damage  him  fatally  as  a  pretender  to  the  throne. 
Again,  it  seemed  to  explain  the  name  "  A-lcktra  "  (as 
if  from  XeKTpbvy  "  bed  ;"  cf.  Schol.  Orestes,  71,  Soph. 
EL  962,  yfnt,  917)  more  pointedly  than  the  commoner 
version.  And  it  helps  in  the  working  out  of  Elcctra's 
character  (cf.  pp.  17,  22,  &c.).  Also  it  gives  an  oppor- 
tunity of  introducing  the  fine  character  of  the  peasant. 
He  is  an  Avrovpyo^iy  literally  "self- worker,"  a  man  who 
works  his  own  land,  far  from  the  city,  neither  a  slave 
nor  a  slave-master ;  "  the  men,"  as  Euripides  says  in 
the  Orestes  (920),  **who  alone  save  a  nation."  (Cf. 
Bacy  p.  115  foot,  and  below,  p.  26, 11.  367-390.)  As 
Euripides  became  more  and  more  alienated  from  the 
town  democracy  he  tended,  like  Tolstoy  and  others,  to 
idealise  the  workers  of  the  soil. 

P.  6,  1.  62,  Children  to  our  enemy.] — Cf.  626. 
Soph.  EL  589.  They  do  not  seem  to  be  in  existence 
at  the  time  of  the  play. 

Pp.  5-6.] — Electra's  first  two  speeches  arc  ad- 
mirable as  expositions  of  her  character — the  morbid 
?/  nursing  of  hatred  as  a  duty,  the  deliberate  posing,  the 
impulsiveness,  the  quick  response  to  kindness. 

y.  7,  1.  82,  Pylades.] — Pylades  is  a  persona  muta 
both  here  and  in  Sophocles'  Eiectroy  a  fixed  traditional 
figure,  possessing  no  quality  but  devotion  to  Orestes. 
In  Aeschylus'  Libation- Bearers  he  speaks  only  once, 
with  tremendous  cflPect,  at  the  crisis  of  the  play,  to 
rebuke  Orestes  when  his  heart  fails  him.  In  the 
Iphigenia  in  Taurisy  however,  and  still  more  in  the 
Orestes^  he  is  a  fully  studied  character. 

P.  io»  1.  I5i>  A  swan  crying  alone.] — Cf.  Bacchat^ 


NOTES  87 

p.  152,  "As  yearns  the  milk- white  swar  when  old 
swans  die." 

P.  II,  11.  169  ff.,  The  Watcher  hath  cried  this 
day.] — Hera  was  an  old  Pelasgian  goddess,  whose 
worship  was  kept  in  part  a  mystery  from  the  invading 
Achaeans  or  Dorians.  There  seems  to  have  been  a 
priest  born  "  of  the  ancient  folk,"  i,e,y  a  Pelasgian  or 
aboriginal  Mycenaean,  who,  by  some  secret  lore — 
probably  some  ancient  and  superseded  method  of  cal- 
culating the  year — knew  when  Hera's  festival  was 
due,  and  walked  round  the  country  three  days  before- 
hand to  announce  it.  He  drank  "the  mi'k  of  the 
flock "  and  avoided  wine,  either  from  some  religious 
taboo,  or  because  he  represented  the  religion  of  the 
milk-drinking  mountain  shepherds. 

P.  13,  11.  220  ff,] — Observe  Electra's  cowardice 
when  surprised  ;  contrast  her  courage,  p.  47,  when 
sending  Orestes  off,  and  again  her  quick  drop  to 
despair  when  the  news  does  not  come  soon  enough. 

P.  16, 11.  247  ff.,  I  am  a  wife.  .  .  .  O  better  dead  !] 
— Rather  ungenerous,  when  compared  with  her  words 
on  p.  6.  (Cf.  also  her  words  on  pp.  24  and  26.)  But 
she  feels  this  herself,  almost  immediately.  Orestes 
naturally  takes  her  to  mean  that  her  husband  is  one 
of  Aegisthus'  friends.  This  would  have  ruined  his 
plot.     (Cf.  above,  p.  8,  1.  98.) 

P.  22,  1.  312,  Castor.] — I  know  no  other  mention 
of  Electra's  betrothal  to  Castor.  He  was  her  kins- 
man :   see  below  on  1.  990. 

Pp.  22-23,  11.  300-337.] — In  this  wonderful  out- 
break, observe  the  mixture  of  all  sorts  of  personal 
resentments  and  jealousies  with  the  devotion  of  the 
lonely  woman  to  her  father  and  her  brother.  "So 
men  say,"  is  an  interesting  touch  ;  perhaps  conscience 
tells  her  midway  that  she  does  not  quite  believe  what 
she  is  saying.  So  is  the  self-conscious  recognition  of 
her  "  bitter  burning  brain  "  that  interprets  all  things 
in  a  sort  of  distortion. — Observe,  too,  how  instinctively 


88  EURIPIDES 

she  turns  to  the  peasant  for  sympathy  in  the  strain  of 
her  emotion.  It  is  his  entrance,  perhaps,  which  pre- 
vents Orestes  from  being  swept  away  and  revealing 
himself.  The  peasant's  courage  towards  two  armed 
men  is  striking,  as  well  as  his  courtesy  and  his  sanity. 
He  is  the  one  character  in  the  play  not  somehow  tainted 
with  blood-madness. 

P.  27,  11.  403,  409.] — Why  does  Electra  send 
her  husband  to  the  Old  Man  ?  Not,  I  think,  really 
for  want  of  the  food.  It  would  have  been  easier  to 
borrow  (p.  12,  1.  191)  from  the  Chorus;  and,  besides, 
what  the  peasant  says  is  no  doubt  true,  that,  if  she 
liked,  she  could  find  "many  a  pleasant  thing"  u 
the  house.  I  think  she  sends  for  the  Old  Man  be- 
cause he  is  the  only  person  who  would  know  Orestes 
(p.  21,  1.  285).  She  is  already,  like  th^  Leader 
(p.  26, 1.  401),  excited  by  hopes  which  she  wili  not  con- 
fess.    This  reading  makes  the  next  scene  clearer  also. 

Pp.  28-30, 11.  432-487, 0  for  the  Ships  of  Troy.] — 
The  two  main  Choric  songs  of  thfs  play  are  markedly 
what  Aristotle  calls  ifi^oXi^cty  "things  thrown  in." 
They  have  no  effect  upon  the  action,  and  form  little 
more  than  musical  "relief."  Not  that  they  are 
positively  irrelevant.  Agamemnon  is  in  our  minds 
all  through  the  play,  and  Agamemnon's  glory  is  of 
course  enhanced  by  the  mention  of  Troy  and  the 
praises  of  his  subordinate  king,  Achilles. 

Thetis,  the  Nereid,  or  sea-maiden,  was  won  to 
wife  by  Peleus.  (He  wrestled  with  her  on  the  sea- 
shore, and  never  loosed  hold,  though  she  turned  into 
divers  strange  beings — a  lion,  and  fire,  and  water,  and 
sea-beasts.)  She  bore  him  Achilles,  and  then,  unable 
permanently  to  live  with  a  mortal,  went  back  beneath 
the  sea.  When  Achilles  was  about  to  sail  to  Troy, 
she  and  her  sister  Nereids  brought  him  divine  armour, 
and  guided  his  ships  across  the  Aegean.  The  designs 
on  Achilles*  armour,  as  on  Heracles'  shield,  form  a 
fttirly  common  topic  of  poetry, 


NOTES  »9 

The  deix:ription8  of  the  designs  arc  mostly  clear. 
Perseus  with  the  Gorgon's  head,  guided  by  Hermes ; 
the  Sun  on  a  winged  chariot,  and  stars  about  him ; 
two  Sphinxes,  holding  as  victims  the  men  who  had 
failed  to  answer  the  riddles  which  they  sang ;  and, 
on  the  breastplate,  the  Chimaera  attacking  Bellero- 
phon's  winged  horse,  Pegasus.  The  name  Pegasus 
suggested  to  a  Greek  irTj'yrjy  "fountain;"  and  the  great 
spring  of  Pir^n6,  near  Corinth,  was  made  by  Pegasus 
stamping  on  the  rock. 

Pp.  30-47.] — The  Old  Man,  like  other  old  family 
rsrvants  in  Euripides — the  extreme  case  is  in  the  Ion 
— is  absolutely  and  even  morbidly  devoted  to  his 
masters.  Delightful  in  this  first  scene,  he  becomes 
a  little  horrible  in  the  next,  where  they  plot  the 
murders ;  not  only  ferocious  himself,  but,  what  seems 
worse,  inclined  to  pet  and  enjoy  the  bloodthirstiness 
of  his  "  little  mistress." 

Pp.  30-33,  11.  510-545.] — The  Signs  of  Orestes. 
This  scene,  I  think,  has  been  greatly  misunderstood 
by  critics.  In  Aeschylus'  Libation-Bearers,  which 
deals  with  thc^  same  subject  as  the  Electro^  the  scene 
is  at  Agamemnon's  tomb.  Orestes  lays  his  tress  there 
in  the  prologue.  Electra  comes  bringing  libations, 
sees  the  hair,  compares  it  with  her  own,  finds  that 
it  is  similar  "  wing  for  wing  "  {ofioirrepof; — the  same 
word  as  here),  and  guesses  that  it  belongs  to  Orestes. 
She  then  measures  the  footprints,  and  finds  one  that 
is  like  her  own,  one  not  5  evidently  Orestes  and  a 
fellow- traveller  I  Orestes  enters  and  announces  him- 
self; she  refuses  to  believe,  until  he  shows  her  a 
"woven  thing,"  perhaps  the  robe  which  he  is  wear- 
ing, which  she  recognises  as  the  work  of  her  own 
hand. 

The  same  signs,  described  ''in  one  case  by  the 
same  peculiar  word,  occur  here.  The  Old  Man 
mentions  one  after  the  other,  and  Electra  refutes 
or  rejects  them.     It  has  been  thought  therefore  that 


90  EURIPIDES 

this  scene  was  meant  as  an  attack — a  very  weak 
and  undignified  attack — on  Euripides*  great  master. 
No  parallel  for  such  an  artistically  ruinous  proceeding 
is  quoted  from  any  Greek  tragedy-  And,  apart 
fronr  the  improbability  h  priori^  I  do  not  think  it 
even  possible  to  read  the  scene  in  this  sense,  To 
my  mind,  Electra  here  rejects  the  signs  not  from 
IV  reason,  but  from  a  sort  of  nervous  terror.  She  dares 
not  believe  that  Orestes  has  come ;  because,  if  it  prove 
otherwise,  the  disappointment  will  be  so  terrible.  As 
to  both  signs,  the  lock  of  hair  and  the  footprints, 
her  arguments  may  be  good  ;  but  observe  that  she 
is  afraid  to  make  the  comparison  at  all.  And  as  to 
the  footprint,  she  says  there  cannot  be  one,  when 
the  Old  Man  has  just  seen  it  1  And,  anyhow,  she 
will  not  go  to  see  it !  Similarly  as  to  the  robe, 
she  does  her  best  to  deny  that  she  ever  wove  it, 
though  she  and  the  Old  Man  both  remember  it 
perfectly.  She  is  fighting  tremulously,  with  all 
her  flagging  strength,  against  the  thing  she  longs 
for.  The  whole  point  of  the  scene  requires  that 
one  ray  of  hope  after  another  should  be  shown  to 
Electra,  and  that  she  should  passionately,  blindly, 
reject  them  all.  That  is  what  Euripides  wanted 
the  signs  for. 

But  why,  it  may  be  asked,  did  he  adopt  Aeschylus* 
signs,  and  even  his  peculiar  word  ?  Because,  whether 
invented  by  Aeschylus  or  not,  these  signs  were  a 
canonical  part  of  the  story  by  the  time  Euripides 
wrote.  Every  one  who  kncAv^  the  story  of  Orestes* 
return  at  all,  knew  of  the  hair  and  the  footprint. 
Aristophanes  in  the  Clouds  (534  AT.)  uses  them  pro- 
verbially, when  he  speaks  of  his  comedy  "  recognising 
its  brother's  tress."  It  would  have  been  frivolous 
to  invent  new  onesL  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  seems 
probable  that  the  signs  are  older  than  Aeschylus; 
neither  they  nor  the  word  oficnrrepoff  particularly  suit 
Aeschylus'  purpose.  (Cf.  Dr.  Verrall's  introduction  to 


NOTES  91 

the  Libation^ Bearers.)  They  probably  come  from  the 
old  lyric  poet,  Stesichorus. 

P.  43,  1.  652,  New-mothered  of  a  Man-Child.] — 
Her  true  Man-Child,  the  Avenger  whom  they  had 
sought  to  rob  her  of!  This  pitiless  plan  was 
suggested  apparently  by  the  sacrifice  to  the  Nymphs 
(p.  40).  "  Weep  my  babe's  low  station "  is  of 
course  ironical.  The  babe  would  set  a  seal  on 
Electra's  degradation  to  the  peasant  class,  and  so  end 
the  blood-feud,  as  far  as  she  was  concerned.  Clytem- 
nestra,  longing  for  peace,  must  rejoice  in  Electra's 
degradation.  Yet  she  has  motherly  feelings  too,  and 
in  fact  hardly  knows  what  to  think  or  do  till  she  can 
consult  Aegisthus  (p.  71).  Electra,  it  would  seem, 
actually  calculates  upon  these  feelings,  while  despising 
them. 

P.  45,  1.  669,  If  but  some  man  will  guide  me.] — 
A  suggestion  of  the  irresolution  or  melancholia  that 
beset  Orestes  afterwards,  alternating  with  furious 
action.  (Cf.  Aeschylus*  Libation- Bear ers^  Euripides' 
Andromache  and  Orestes,) 

P.  45,  1.  671,  Zeus  of  my  sires,  &c.] — In  this 
invocation,  short  and  comparatively  unmoving,  one 
can  see  perhaps  an  effect  of  Aeschylus'  play.  In  the 
Libation-Bearers  the  invocation  of  Agamemnon  com- 
prises 200  lines  of  extraordinarily  eloquent  poetry. 

P.  47  ff.,  11.  699  ff.]— -The  Golden  Lamb.  The  theft 
of  the  Golden  Lamb  is  treated  as  a  story  of  the  First 
Sin,  after  which  all  the  world  was  changed  and 
became  the  poor  place  that  it  now  is.  It  was  at 
least  the  First  Sin  in  the  blood-feud  of  this  drama. 

The  story  is  not  explicitly  told.  Apparently  the 
magic  lamb  was  brought  by  Pan  from  the  gods,  and 
given  to  Atreus  as  a  special  grace  and  a  sign  that  he 
was  the  true  king.  His  younger  brother,  Thyestes, 
helped  by  Atreus*  wife,  stole  it  and  claimed  to  be 
king  himself.  So  good  was  turned  into  evil,  and  love 
into  hatred,  and  the  stars  shaken  in  their  courses. 


92  EURIPIDES 

[It  is  rather  curious  that  the  Lamb  should  have 
such  a  special  effect  upon  the  heavens  and  the 
weather.  It  is  the  same  in  Plato  {Po/it.  268  ff.), 
and  more  definitely  so  in  the  treatise  Dg  Astrologta^ 
attributed  to  Lucian,  which  says  that  the  Golden 
Lamb  is  the  constellation  Aries,  "  The  Ram.*'  Hugo 
Winckler  (Jf^eltanschauung  des  alien  OrienUy  pp.  30, 
31)  suggests  that  the  story  is  a  piece  of  Babylonian 
astronomy  misunderstood.  It  seems  that  the  vernal 
equinox,  which  is  now  n»oving  from  the  Ram  into 
the  Fish,  was  in  the  ninth  and  eighth  centuries  B.C. 
moving  from  the  Bull  into  the  Ram.  Now  the 
Bull,  Marduk,  was  the  special  god  of  Babylon,  and 
the  time  when  he  yielded  his  place  to  the  Ram  was 
also,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  time  of  the  decline  of 
Babylon.  The  gradual  advance  of  the  Ram  not 
only  upset  the  calendar,  and  made  all  the  seasons 
wrong ;  but  seemed,  since  it  coincided  with  the 
fall  of  the  Great  City,  to  upset  the  world  in  general  I 
Of  course  Euripides  would  know  nothing  of  this. 
He  was  apparently  attracted  to  the  Golden  Lamb 
merely  by  the  quaint  beauty  of  the  story.] 

P.  50,  1.  746,  Thy  brethren  even  now.] — Castor 
and  Polydeuces,  who  were  received  into  the  stars 
after  their  death.     See  below,  on  1.  990. 

P.  51,  1.  757,  That  answer  bids  me  die.] — Why? 
Because  Orestes,  if  he  won  at  all,  would  win  by  a 
surprise  attack,  and  would  send  news  instantly.  A 
prolonged  conflict,  without  a  message,  would  mean 
that  Orestes  and  Pvlades  were  being  overpowered. 
Of  course  she  is  wildly  impatient, 

P.  51,  1.  765,  Who  an  thou?  I  mistrust  thec.]~ 
Just  as  she  mistrusted  the  Old  Man's  signs.  See 
above,  p.  89. 

P.  52  ff.,  11.  774  ff.] — Messenger's  Speech.  This 
speech,  though  swift  and  vivid,  is  less  moving  and 
also  less  sympathetic  than  most  of  the  Messengers' 
Speeches.      Less    moving,    because    the    slaying  of 


NOTES  93 

Acgisthus  has  little  moral  interest ;  it  is  merely  a 
daring  and  dangerous  exploit.  Less  sympathetic, 
because  even  here,  in  the  first  and  comparatively 
blameless  step  of  the  blood  -  vengeance,  Euripides 
makes  us  feel  the  treacherous  side  of  it.  A  SoXo<f>ovLay 
a  "  slaying  by  guile,"  even  at  its  best,  remains  rather 
an  ugly  thing. 

P.  53,  I.  793,  Then  quickly  spake  Orestes.]  — 
If  Orestes  had  washed  with  Aegisthus,  he  would 
have  become  his  xenosy  or  guest,  as  much  as  if  he  had 
eaten  his  bread  and  salt.  In  that  case  the  slaying 
would  have  been  definitely  a  crime,  a  dishonourable 
act.  Also,  Acgisthus  would  have  had  the  right  to 
ask  his  name. — The  unsuspiciousness  of  Aegisthus  is 
partly  natural ;  it  was  not  thus,  alone  and  unarmed, 
that  he  expected  Orestes  to  stand  before  him.  Partly 
it  seems  like  a  heaven-sent  blindness.  Even  the  omens 
do  not  warn  him,  though  no  doubt  in  a  moment  more 
they  would  have  done  so. 

P.  56,  1.  878,  With  guile  he  hath  slain.] —So 
the  MSS.  The  Chorus  have  already  a  faint  feeling, 
quickly  suppressed,  that  there  may  be  another  side 
to  Orestes'  action.  Most  editors  alter  the  text  to 
mean  "  He  hath  slain  these  guileful  ones." 

P.  58,  1.  900,  It  shames  me,  yet  God  knows  I 
hunger  sore.] — To  treat  the  dead  with  respect  was 
one  of  the  special  marks  of  a  Greek  as  opposed  to  a 
barbarian.  It  is  possible  that  the  body  of  Aegisthus 
might  legitimately  have  been  refused  burial,  or  even 
nailed  on  a  cross  as  Orestes  in  a  moment  of  excitement 
suggests.  But  to  insult  him  lying  dead  would  be  a 
shock  to  all  Greek  feeling.  ("Unholy  is  the  voice 
of  loud  thanksgiving  over  slaughtered  men,"  Odyssey 
xxii.  412.)  Any  excess  of  this  kind,  any  violence 
towards  the  helpless,  was  apt  to  rouse  "  The  sleeping 
wrath  of  the  world."  There  was  a  Greek  proverb, 
*'Even  an  injured  dog  has  his  Erinys" — /.^.,  his 
unseen  guardian  or  avenger.     It  is  interesting,  though 


94  £URIPID£S 

not  surprising,  to  hear  that  men  had  little  love  for 
Electra.  The  wonderful  speech  that  follows,  though 
to  a  conventional  Greek  perhaps  the  most  outrageous 
thing  of  which  she  is  guilty,  shows  best  the  inherent 
nobility  of  her  character  before  years  of  misery  had 
"killed  her  soul  within." 

P.  59,  11.  928  f.,  Being  in  falseness  one,  &c.] — The 
Greek  here  is  very  obscure  and  almost  certainly 
corrupt. 

P.  61,  I.  964,  Tis  my  mother  comes.] — The 
reaction  has  already  begun  in  Orestes.  In  the 
excitement  and  danger  of  killing  his  enemy  he  has 
shown  coolness  and  courage,  but  now  a  work  lies 
before  him  vastly  more  horrible,  a  little  more  treacher- 
ous, and  with  no  element  of  daring  to  redeem  it. 
Electra,  on  the  other  hand,  has  done  nothing  yet ;  she 
has  merely  tried,  not  very  successfully,  to  revile  the 
dead  body,  and  her  hate  is  unsatisfied.  Besides,  one 
sees  all  through  the  play  that  Aegisthus  was  a  kind  of 
odious  stranger  to  her  ;  it  was  the  woman,  her  mother, 
who  came  close  to  her  and  whom  she  really  hated. 

P.  63,  1.  979,  Was  it  some  fiend  of  Hell  ?]— The 
likeness  to  Hamlet  is  obvious.  ("The  spirit  that  I 
have  seen  May  be  the  Devil."     End  of  Act  II.) 

P.  63,  1.  983,  How  shall  it  be  then,  the  same 
stealthy  blow  ?  .  .  .] — He  means,  I  think,  "  the  same 
as  that  with  which  I  have  already  murdered  an 
unsuspecting  man  to-day,"  but  Electra  for  her  own 
purposes  misinterprets  him. 

P.  64,  1.  990,  God's  horsemen,  stars  without  a 
stain.] — Cf.  above,  11.  312,  74.6.  Castor  and  Poly- 
deuces  were  sons  of  Zeus  and  Leda,  brothers  of 
Helen,  and  half-brothers  of  Clytemnestra,  whose 
father  was  the  mortal  Tyndareus.  They  lived  as 
knights  without  reproach,  and  afterwards  became 
stars  and  demigods.  The  story  is  told  that  originally 
Castor  was  mortal  and  Polydcuccs  immortal ;  but 
when  Castor  was  fatally  wounded  Polydeuccs  prayed 


NOTES  95 

that  he  might  be  allowed  to  give  him  half  hiis  im- 
mortality. The  prayer  was  granted ;  and  the  two 
live  as  immortals,  yet,  in  some  mysterious  way, 
knowing  the  taste  of  death.  Unlike  the  common 
sinners  and  punishers  of  the  rest  of  the  play,  these 
Heroes  find  their  "  glory  '*  in  saving  men  from  peril 
and  suffering,  especially  at  sea,  where  they  appear  as 
the  globes  of  light,  called  St.  Elmo's  fire,  upon  masts 
and  yards. 

Pp.  64-71,  11.  998  ff.]  — Clytemssestra.  «*And 
what  sort  of  woman  is  this  doomed  and  *evil' 
Queen  ?  We  know  the  majestic  murderess  of 
Aeschylus,  so  strong  as  to  be  actually  beautiful,  so 
fearless  and  unrepentant  that  one  almost  feels  her  to 
be  right.  One  can  imagine  also  another  figure  that 
would  be  theatrically  effective — a  *  sympathetic ' 
sinner,  beautiful  and  penitent,  eager  to  redeem  her 
sin  by  self-sacrifice.  But  Euripides  gives  us  neither. 
Perhaps  he  believed  in  neither.  It  is  a  piteous  and 
most  real  character  that  we  have  here,  in  this  sad 
middle-aged  woman,  whose  first  words  are  an  apology  ; 
controlling  quickly  her  old  fires,  anxious  to  be  as  little 
hated  as  possible.  She  would  even  atone,  one  feels, 
if  there  were  any  safe  way  of  atonement ;  but  the 
consequences  of  her  old  actions  are  holding  her,  and 
she  is  bound  to  persist.  ...  In  her  long  speech  it  is 
scarcely  to  Electra  that  she  is  chiefly  speaking ;  it  is 
to  the  Chorus,  perhaps  to  her  own  bondmaids ;  to 
any  or  all  of  the  people  whose  shrinking  so  frets  her." 
{^Independent  Review^  i.e.)         o 

P.  65,  1.  loii.  Cast  his  child  away.} — The  Greek 
fleet  assembled  for  Troy  was  held  by  contrary  winds 
at  Aulis,  in  the  Straits  of  Euboea,  and  the  whole 
expedition  was  in  danger  of  breaking  up.  The 
prophets  demanded  a  human  sacrifice,  and  Agamem- 
non gave  his  own  daughter,  Iphigenla.  He  induced 
Clytemnestra  to  send  her  to  him,  by  the  pretext  that 
Achilles  had  asked  for  her  in  marriage. 


96  EURIPIDES 

P.  66,  1.  1046,  Which  led  me  to  the  men  he 
hated.] — It  made  Clytemnestra's  crime  worse,  that 
her  accomplice  was  the  blood-foe. 

Pp.  65-68.  As  elsewhere  in  Euripides,  these  two 
speeches  leave  the  matter  undecided.  He  does  not 
attempt  to  argue  the  case  out.  He  gives  us  a  flash 
of  light,  as  it  were,  upon  Clytemnestra'*s  mind  and 
then  upon  Electra's.  Each  believes  what  she  is 
saying,  and  neither  understands  the  whole  truth. 
It  is  clear  that  Clytemnestra,  being  left  for  ten  years 
utterly  alone,  and  having  perhaps  something  of  Helen's 
temperament  about  her,  naturally  fell  in  love  with  the 
Lord  of  a  neighbouring  castle ;  and  having  once 
committed  herself,  had  no  way  of  saving  her  life 
except  by  killing  her  husband,  and  afterwards  either 
killing  or  keeping  strict  watch  upon  Orestes  and 
Electra.  Aegisthus,  of  course,  was  deliberately 
plotting  to  carry  out  his  blood-feud  and  to  win  a 
great  kingdom. 

P.  72,  1.  1 1 56,  For  the  flying  heart  too  fond.] — 
The  text  is  doubtful,  but  this  seems  to  be  the  literal 
translation,  and  the  reference  to  Clytemnestra  is 
intelligible  enough. 

P.  73,  1.  1 157,  The  giants'  cloud-capped  ring.] — 
The  great  walls  of  Mvcenae,  built  by  the  Cycl6pes ; 
cf.  Trojan  Women^  p.  64,  "  Where  the  towers  of  the 
giants  shine  O'er  Argos  cloudily." 

P.  75,  K  1 20 1,  Back,  back  in  the  wind  and  rain.] 
— The  only  explicit  moral  judgment  of  the  Chorus ; 
-f.  note  on  1.  878. 

P.  77,  1.  1225,  I  touched  with  my  hand  thy 
sword.] — U€.^  Electra  dropped  her  own  sword  in 
horror,  then  in  a  revulsion  of  feeling  laid  her  hand 
upon  Orestes'  sword — out  of  generosity,  that  he 
might  not  bear  his  guilt  alone. 

P.  78,  1.  1 241,  An  Argivc  ship.] — This  may  have 
been  the  ship  of  Menelaus,  which  was  brought  to 
Argos  by  Castor  and  Polydeuces,  sec  1.  1278,  Htleno 


NOTES  97 

1663.  The  ships  labouring  in  the  "  Sicilian  sea  " 
(p.  82,  L  1347)  must  have  suggested  to  the  audiena 
the  ships  of  the  great  expedition  against  Sicily,  then 
'Irawing  near  to  its  destruction.  The  Athenian  fleet 
was  destroyed  early  in  September  413  b.c:  this  play 
was  probably  produced  in  the  spring  of  the  same  year, 
at  which  time  the  last  reinforcements  were  being 
sent  out. 

P.  78,  1.  1249.] — Marriage  of  Py lades  and  Electra. 
A  good  example  of  the  essentially  historic  naturp 
of  Greek  tragedy.  No  one  would  have  invented  3 
marriage  between  Electra  and  Pylades  for  tht  purposes 
of  this  play.  It  is  even  a  little  disturbing.  But  it  is 
here,  because  it  was  a  fixed  fact  in  the  tradition  (cf. 
Iphigenia  in  Taurisy  1.  915  ff.),  and  could  not  be 
ignored.  Doubtless  there  were  people  living  who 
claimed  descent  from  Pylades  and  Electra. 

P.  79,  1.  1253,  ScouTge  thee  as  a  burning  wheel.] 
— At  certain  feasts  a  big  wheel  soaked  in  some  inflam- 
mable resin  or  tar  was  set  fire  to  and  rolled  down 
a  mountain. 

P.  79,  1.  1258,  There  is  a  hill  in  Athens.J—The 
great  fame  of  the  Areopagus  as  a  tribunal  for  man- 
slaying  (see  Aeschylus'  Eumtnides)  cannot  have  been 
due  merely  to  its  incorruptibility.  Hardly  any 
Athenian  tribunal  was  corruptible.  But  the  Areopagus 
in  very  ancient  times  seems  to  have  superseded  the 
early  systems  of  "  blood-feud  "  or  "  blood-debt "  by  1 
humane  and  rational  system  of  law,  taking  account 
of  intention,  provocation,  and  the  varying  degrees  of 
guilt.  The  Erinyes,  being  the  old  Pelasgian  avengers 
of  blood,  now  superseded,  have  their  dwelling  in  a 
cavern  underneath  the  Areopagus. 

P.  80,  U.  1276  ff.] — The  graves  of  Aegisthus  and 
Clytcmnestra  actually  existed  in  Argos  (Paus.  ii. 
16,  7).  They  form,  so  to  speak,  the  concrete  material 
fiict  round  which  the  legend  of  this  play  circles  (cf. 
Ridjreway  in  H^tiUuic  Jaurnal^  xxiv.  p.  xxxix.). 


98  EURIPIDES 

P.  80,  1.  1280.] — Helen.  The  story  here  adum- 
brated is  taken  from  Stesichorus,  and  forms  the  plot  of 
Euripides*  play  Helena  (cf.   Herodotus,  ii.  113  ff.). 

P.  80,  I  1295,  I  also,  sons  of  Tyndareus.]  — 
Observe  that  Electra  claims  the  gods  as  cousins  (cf. 
p.  22,  1.  313),  addressing  them  by  the  name  of  their 
mortal  ftithcr.  The  Chorus  has  called  them  "sons 
of  Zeus.''  In  the  same  spirit  she  faces  the  gods, 
complains,  and  even  argues,  while  Orestes  never  rai:>es 
his  eyes  to  them. 

P.  80,  1.  1300.] — K^res.  The  death-spirits  that 
flutter  over  our  heads,  as  Homer  says,  "  innumerable, 
whom  no  man  can  fly  nor  hide  from." 

P.  82,  1.  1329,  Yea,  our  peace  is  riven  by  the 
strange  pain  of  these  that  die.] — Cf.  the  attitude  of 
Artemis  at  the  end  of  the  Hippolytus,  Sometimes 
Euripides  introduces  gods  whose  peace  is  not  riven, 
but  then  they  are  always  hateful.  (Cf.  Aphrodite  in 
the  Hippo lytus^  Dionysus  in  the  Bacchae^  Athena  in 
the  Trojan  JVomen.) 

P.  82,  1.  1336,  O  fiiithful  unto  death.]— This  is 
the  last  word  we  hear  of  Electra,  and  it  is  interest- 
ing. With  all  her  unlovely  qualities  it  remains  true 
that  she  was  faithful — ^ithful  to  the  dead  and  the 
absent,  and  to  what  she  looked  upon  as  a  fearful  duty. 


Additional  Note  on  the  presence  of  the  Argive 
women  during  the  plot  against  the  King  and  Queen. 
(Cf.  especially  p.  19,  1.  272,  These  women  hear  us.) 
— It  would  seem  to  us  almost  mad  to  speak  so  freely 
before  the  women.  But  one  must  observe :  I, 
Stasis,  or  civil  enmity,  ran  very  high  in  Greece,  and 
these  women  were  of  the  pauty  that  hated  Acgisthut. 
2.  There  runs  all  through  Euripides  a  very  strong 
N\-  conception  of  the  cohesivcness  of  women,  their 
srcretiveness,  and  their  faithfulness  to  one  another. 
Medea,    Iphigenia,   and   Creusa,    for    instance,   trust 


a 


NOTES  99 

their  women  friends  with  secrets  involving  life  and 
death,  and  the  secrets  are  kept.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  a  man — Xuthus  in  the  Ion — tells  the  Chorus 
women  a  secret,  they  promptly  and  with  great 
courage  betray  him.  Aristophanes  leaves  the  same 
impression ;  and  so  do  many  incidents  in  Greek 
history.  Cf.  the  murders  plotted  by  the  Athenian 
women  (Hdt.  v.  87),  and  both  by  and  against  the 
Lemnian  women  (Hdt.  vi.  138).  The  subject  is  a 
large  one,  but  I  would  observe  :  I.  Athenian  women 
were  kept  as  a  rule  very  much  together,  and  apart 
from  men.  2.  At  the  time  of  the  great  invasions  the 
women  of  a  community  must  often  have  been  of  dif- 
ferent race  from  the  men  ;  and  this  may  have  started 
a  tradition  of  behaviour,  3.  Members  of  a  subject 
(or  disaffected)  nation  have  generally  this  cohesive- 
ness :  in  Ireland,  Poland,  and  parts  of  Turkey  the 
details  of  a  political  crime  will,  it  is  said,  be  known 
to  a  whole  country  side,  but  not  a  whisper  come  to 
the  authorities. 

Of  course  the  mere  mechanical  fact  that  the 
Chorus  had  to  be  present  on  the  stage  counts  for 
something.  It  saved  the  dramatist  trouble  to  make 
his  heroine  confide  in  the  Chorus.  But  I  do  not 
think  Euripides  would  have  used  this  situation  so 
often  unless  it  had  seemed  to  him  both  true  to  life 
and  dramatically  interesting. 


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Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling     642-3405. 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

^UiGDiSuJl/t2i  'm 

w 

FORM  NO.  DD6, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


